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Brave young sergeant
So young, so beautiful
It's the night before deportation
And he's thinking hard.

Brave young wife
So young, so beautiful
It's the night before his deportation
And she's crying hard.

"Hush," he says, "Hush.
I'm coming back.
One way or another
I promise I'll be return."

The night is over
Passing like sand through a sieve.
A truck rumbles up at six o'clock

And she knows it's his.

No words can suffice
Her hands feel like ice
As he kisses her goodbye
And leaves her with a sigh.

The plane is ready to go.
He's trying not to let it show
How he wishes she had said something
Anything but goodbye.

His paratroop platoon is waiting
All look to their lieutenant for assurance.
His severe face meets them all
And they sense his inference.

It's night again before they reach their mark.
By the time it's drop point, it's dark.
The back of the plane opens, the jungle's below
Lieutenant yells, "It's time to go!"

He's one of the last to jump
One of the few to live.
Falling men all around
Dying men hit the ground.

Whoosh! Chute's open.
The wind squeezes tears from his eyes.
Gunfire roars below
And bullets whip by as he flies.

The lieutenant's still alive, he sees
Half his platoon is gone.
The rest know what they have to do
They won't quit till they're through.

Humidity, dense unfamiliar jungle.
A cream to the left says
Booby traps are set in place
And a soldier's life is stolen.

They know what they are searching for:
The enemy's back.
He thinks, "How can we find it
Wandering in the black?"

Lieutenant stops and hisses, "Sergeant!"
The young man rushes forward.
The map flashes under the light
Neither man says a word.

On the map, Sergeant X's the drop.
Further up, the enemy lines are marked.
He checks his compass and the map
And puts them back in his pack.

Lieutenant nods, onward they go
Marching until daylight
Then hiding and sleeping
Preparing for a fight.

Sergeant's on watch,
Hidden in the green.
In just one hour
They'll be on with Operation Queen.

The plan of action
Is to take them by surprise.
Attack from behind
He didn't know if that was wise.

Lieutenant awoke, counted squads.
All that remained headed on
The enemy awaited, a snake on their path,
Ready to strike at them in wrath.

"There they are! Fire! Open fire!"
Bullets fly from the M-16's.
Grenades take out dozens
Of tightly packed Vietnamese.

Sergeant fires well,
Rarely missing his mark.
The sniper of the group
Covers from fire in the jungle.

Sticky, sweaty, nasty, tired
His comrades push forward, slowly falling.
He picks up his gun and throws a grenade
The blast is deafening, gore appalling.

"God

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