Reginald Walker

Rookie - 3 Points (July 9,1964 / Marion, Alabama)

(updated January 28,2009) The U. S. Army Ranger, A Poetic Series, The Journey Begins 2 - Poem by Reginald Walker

Book One: The Journey Begins

(This is a fictional poetic series and short story about events that never take place and about people that have never existed. Any representation of an actual event or person is purely coincidental in nature.)

Mission Two: A bullet traveling silently through the air

The next assignment I was given was a very easy mission.
My first mission proved that I was good at killing the enemy.
I did what I was told and my job was very expertly done.
The Sergeant Major appreciated my natural killing ability.

From the captain, I received a top-secret mission folder.
He instructs me not read it until I boarded the gray plane.
Later that day, I picked up my rifle and placed my gear over my shoulder.
Again, I am off to kill the enemy by putting a bullet in his brain.

Skillfully, my camouflaged body jumped out the giant metal gray plane.
Quickly, my silhouette floated out in the dark night sky.
I glide silently in the air and safely land on the jungle floor.
In spite of the danger, the U. S. Army Ranger always will survive.

I took my time making sure to camouflage myself from head to toe.
Carefully, I recheck the picture of the marked enemy inside the folder.
Deep into the dangerous unknown jungle, I voluntarily go.
I travel alone with a 30-06 sniper rifle slung over my shoulder.

The enemy camp was only a short five-click hike away.
The large house stood out in the middle of the wheat field.
The night sky had just started brighten into the beginning of day.
I must retreat and wait until the returning nightfall to make my kill.

Later after the night returned, I climbed high up in a magnolia tree.
Patiently less than a mile away, I waited as the moonlight started shine.
Through the night scope, inside the whole house I could completely see.
From my perch in the tree, my target was not very hard to find.

Carefully, I scoped in on the marked enemy sitting in a chair in the hall.
A very pretty woman was gently brushing the wavy brown locks of his hair.
She bends to get another comb; suddenly, his brain splattered against the wall.
Another enemy killed by a bullet traveling silently through the air.

At last, another mission ends and has successfully been done.
The dead marked enemy now slumped slowly in his chair.
Again, I am a man that must quickly but quietly run.
The U. S. Army Ranger must run like hell away from there.

(Copyright 2007)


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 30, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 12, 2011


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