The Fruits Of War Poem by Herbert Dry

Through the jungle and rice patties in a
distant land
Each walks with caution with weapons
in hand

They came here not knowing what war
would be like
But it will come quickly in their first
fire fight

The choppers fly low over tops
of trees
Looking for a place looking for
the L.Z.

Jumping from the choppers a few feet off
the ground
None will ever forget that terrifying
sound

It is certain young men's blood
will flow
They hear their leader say come on
lets go

Their hearts are beating fast their blood rushing
through their veins
Their weapons spewing death their lives
forever changed

The choppers return to get the living the dead
and the maimed
Dismounting from the choppers slowly each
one walks

They walk in silence no one wants
to talk
They board the plane and away from the war
they fly

They finished their tour of duty they seen their
friends die
Across this land the sound of taps will
continue to play

Across their flag draped caskets where their bodies
so still lay
The fruits of war are bitter it brings tears
to every eye

As the family of the fallen gather to tell their
loved ones good bye