TOC
(Tactical
Operations Center)
so
often i could see the boy shining through the façade of manhood
as
you tried to be the first to yell out the name of the team
who
won the world series in 1950
but
not this morning as I watched you attach
grenades
and canteens to web gear,
sling
bandoleers of ammo across your broad shoulders
check
your M-16s for peak performance
it
was hard to fathom that you would soon be carrying
those
heavy rucks
PRC-25
and
M60
through
miles of rice paddies
using
the bug juice to coax off the leeches
no,
today there would be no time to play donut dollie games
today
it was necessary for you to be men
but,
even as you donned your warrior gear
and
steel pots adorned with
peace
symbols
and
“short”
you
still had smiles for us
the
best we could do for you today was smile back
take
pictures
remind
you that you weren’t animals
and
walk down to the pick up point with you
to
wait for the choppers
i
don’t know how long we sat in that field
doing
the donut dollie alternative to programming
“where
‘ya from?
what’s
your favorite food?
favorite
sport?
who’s
your favorite actress?”
i
do remember that one kid from your company
pulled
a branch from a nipa palm tree
and
wove me a hat as easily as
a
donut dollie made kool-aid
i
remember the choppers landing
watching
you jump on
and
waving until you were completely out of sight
before
we moved on to play games with the next company
later
that day we were visiting the guys in the TOC
making
jokes and laughing
when
your call came in
i
did not understand all of the code words
but
understood enough to know you were
calling
in fire support
and
dustoffs
somewhere
deep inside,
i
added another sandbag to the bunker
i
was building around my heart
and
put on my eleanor rigby face
that
i kept in the jar by the door
as
we moved on to play games with
the
next company
emily
strange
©
1999