(Poetry) Relections of A Past
The blades were thumping overhead. I scan from the Helo’s side.
I feel the rush of wind upon my face and hear the rotor whine.
Weapons charged and ready, night vision on my head.
We bring the Zombie Apocalypse. We are the Walking Dead.
I fast roped onto the site and let go the asbestos sleeve,
I ranged walked towards the area and flipped up NVG’s.
I checked comms with my team as we filed up in the night.
We stacked along an entrance way and prepared for a fight.
A man stepped forward with a ribbon charge rolled up in his hand.
He brushed the roll two or three times and cleared off sticking sand.
He unrolled the ribbon charge and stuck it on the door.
I heard the countdown in my ear as it counted down from four.
The blast was loud; the door was gone as it blew apart in bits.
That was the wake up for the Tangos that we kicked in their shit.
I could smell the cordite in the air as a breeze wafted on by.
My heart was pounding in my chest as I hoped I wouldn’t die.
Flashbangs went into the room as we counted off to three.
I looked away but felt the blasts and my ears started to ring.
The team moved forward with flowing speed, our guns were up and high.
We cleared the front and down a hall and then we sliced the pie.
I heard rounds flying past with its particular noise.
I swiveled about and then engaged and regained my armored poise.
Recoil bucked into my body as I manipulated my trigger.
I was a weapon in itself as I engaged with zeal and vigor.
I heard my team as they fired rounds as they sliced into a room.
They were little pops in unison compared to the initial boom.
The night was cool but I felt the sweat stinging into my eye.
I heard the team yell “All Clear!” and heard the dying cry.
“Tango Down!” was heard on the comms with the ringing in my ears.
We looked around and searched the place and triple checked our gear.
We searched the dead and took their pics for ones who sent us tonight.
We’re just cogs in this deadly game and they tell us when to fight.
The lingering sharp cordite smoke still hovered in the room.
Fading reminders of our presence there of quick and fatal doom.
We did our job, we did the gig but now we’ll leave this place.
We packed our shit and moved right out leaving nothing to trace.
As we moved out, I called on mike for the Helos staged nearby.
The team formed circle, barrels aimed out as IR’s came alive.
Rotor wash stirred up a storm as cold air cooled me down,
I wore forty pounds of MOLLE shit dressed in multicam and brown.
This is what I did; I make no excuse, this is why I trained so long.
I won’t bore you with bullshit tales and tell you I was morally wrong.
But now I’m here with no more goals and no more mission briefs.
At times I think back about my past and question my beliefs.
As I grow older, I do my thing but ponder the meaning of life.
I came home a different man and I even lost my wife.
She was right; I had changed through those years apart.
But now I’m trying to look ahead with my shattered heart.
With too much time, I think back and question my morality.
I’m still proud but still ashamed with interesting duality.
I miss working with the teams and that’s no fucked up front.
I will admit that I’ll miss the guys and the thrill of the ultimate hunt.