Boots, Combat, Tropical

2 Comments

Poem Commentary

I was a supply sergeant in Vietnam, 1968-1969.

Boots, Combat, Tropical

BOOTS, combat, tropical 

It’s been longer than twice as many years as they were old when they died. 

I can’t remember their names, but I’ll never forget their boots.

Bloody boots. 

The First Sergeant displayed them at our orderly room entrance as a reminder.  Don’t carry frags inside the truck cab on convoys to Pleiku.

The way I heard it, the guy riding shotgun got hit just as he was tossing a grenade out the window.

Two 18-year-old boys dead. 

I can’t remember their names now etched deep in black granite, but I’ll never forget their boots. 

BOOTS, combat, tropical.

Nylon ankle reinforcing band.

Vibram sole.

Size 12M.

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Johnny4444 commented on Boots, Combat, Tropical

08-31-2009

The only thing I liked about being in Nam was that I didn't have to spit shine my boots anymore.

Crush commented on Boots, Combat, Tropical

08-31-2009

a nice tribute and descriptive poem about war and how images and objects effect a person. i have never been to war, well, not this kind of war but i can feel your experience through your words....well done, sir.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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