Picked Up With A Shovel
By Johnny Hutcherson
It was
just another
day in Viet Nam for our Helicopter 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