Picked Up With A Shovel
By Johnny Hutcherson
It was just another
day in Viet Nam for our Helicpter crew, not knowing today we
would be picked up with a shovel. This would be our last time to
fly, for today we were to die.
We flew low in
the Viet Nam sky, radio played Harper Valley P.T.A. Then a call we
heard, a soldier was hit below. "This is Two One we have it," the pilot
said. "Red smoke in site at two O'clock". Rotor blades popped as
the pilot banked right. This L.Z. is Hot!
The gunners fire as
metal of death hits the Helicopter. "I'm hit," the pilot cried as
he tried to fly. A voice was heard from above," Two One your on
FIRE"! Our Helicopter crashes in a big flame, our final day
had came.
We were put in
a rubber bag and sent home. Our loved ones received a
box covered with a flag. For many years we had no place to
go. But as for me; in 1982 I found a home, on a
black wall made of stone in Washington D.C. There I waited to see
you and the son you carried for me.
One hot day in
1984 you came to touch my name, I heard you tell my son there with
you," this is your dad". He is big and in his teens, looks
like me; he has the same color of hair and eyes I once had, this I
can see, plus my ears. You are still so pretty and full of life.
No please don't cry! You know I never could stand to see your tears.
Who is that guy with you, holding your hand? Your wedding band is not
the one I bought you. Oh; I see now, you have a new man. You know thats
good, it's ok with me. I can see he is a kind man and cares for
you and our son.
I know you have to
go, it's getting dark. I hope all of you come back some day.
Don't worry about me, I'm here with my crew. I am never alone. There
are many of us fly boys here my dear.
Some were picked up with a shovel like me. Some
were washed from their
Helicopter with a bucket of water. That's
the way it was to be you see.
copyright
2003, Johnny Hutcherson. All Rights Reserved