Baptized By Fire Poem by David Tallman

Masses blend into the woodlands as young men lay scattered
In green, as sweat shimmers on foreheads
And bodies cringe with desire for the cool relief
Of damp rags pressed lightly upon their foreheads

We rise up as not a word is spoken
And file one by one towards the wood line
Like a school yard game of follow the leader
But the air does not have the same light hearted sense about it
Instead it is heavy, the anticipation weighing on us,
Making us sink further into the mud that now covers
Worn combat boots and frayed laces

I step to the edge of the final row of trees
Which shoot into the sky and gaze down upon our objective
Like a crowded stadium filled with fans their chants are loud
As the wind rustles the leaves and they sway
Almost beckoning us to move forward and face our demons

My anxiety is almost overwhelming but my hand is steady
As I carefully aim the flare up into the beaming sky
It launches up signaling the commencement of the attack
It was almost beautiful, slowly trickling down
Like embers leaping from a summer’s bonfire

The rapid rhythmic rate of machine guns echo from overhead
We burst through the line of trees which stood guard over us
My eyes and rifle sweep the plains seeking to meet another pair
Staring back, to rid myself of the anticipation and fear
Of the unknown that crashes like waves over my body

I am in front, the tip of the spear that seeks to thrust itself
Into the body of those that dare to cross its path
The massive hill looms large in the distance
Painted dark and gloomy against the sky

The ascent begins as I struggle desperately to gasp air
That eludes me as my feet fall one in front of the other
The peak creeps toward us as we desperately try to gain its wisdom,
Of what it holds on the other side

Everyone is on line, like red rover, but our demeanor is harsh
Sand flies and bullets penetrate the air as screams of contact
Break eerily from all sides


I run to a small indent in the earth hoping safety can be found
Just remember one foot in front of the other I tell myself
Just remember push forward, keep going, do not stop

My legs burn with agony but my senses are sharp
Cracks of bullets whistling fill the air but I hear nothing
But the dropp of each boot falling upon the ground

I throw myself into the small defilade I have found
And press my body tightly to the ground
Trying to shrink like wool in hot water

I raise my rifle and look down the old iron sites that grace the barrel
Shadows of figures loom heavy in the distance
The fear and anxiety washes away like dirt falling from flesh after a hot shower

I carefully fix my aim on the dark figure that looms so far away
My left eye gently closes as to wink at him one last time
Sweat pours from my every orifice and my body moans in agony
But my hand is steady and my fingers well trained
As I grip the cold, steel, heartless trigger

Time stands still, I hear nothing, I feel no pain
I see only this ominous black figure, I feel only the trigger
Coming back to me as I beckon it with my finger

The rifle kicks back slightly against my shoulder
The black figure is gone, crumpled on the ground
An explosion of sounds erupt in my ears
But as shortly as they flow back they are lost once again
The field is quiet, no bullets longer volley through the air
Like darts thrown in a small tavern

Everyone is silent, everything is still as we lay motionless against the dirt
Like dolls in camouflage, clumsily strung weapons around our shoulders
We rise quickly and disappear once again
Into the forrest’s beckoning arms

I find shade beneath a daunting tree, towering above the rest
I slip deep into my mind and reflect
I am no longer man, I have been born again
Baptized by fire, my hands prepared for war
And my fingers trained for battle