Kyle Schlicher


Nothing Else To Do


It was quiet, a temporary lull in the action.
I was assigned to yet another detail,
my punishment for being the FNG in the outfit.

I was bored,
waiting on the order for us
to begin loading the transport.

The heat and humidity were stifling;
I sat in the shade of the C-130
as the sweat rolled down my back.

I thought about home and everyone there
and I began to feel pissed off at them.
I'm over here and they were over there.
It was as simple as that.

My vision drifted to the body bags
laid out on the ground.

I watched as the fucking flies
swarmed upon the stickiness of the bags.

Huge green motherfucking flies;
And as the sweat continued to roll down my back
I began to try to count them.

I was bored
And I had nothing else to do.

3-13- 1970.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Topic of this poem: War


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