Well, its been a while since I last posted. Today's poem is a military theme. It is in answer to a challenge/suggestion for a poem by Rick W., my best friend. I have worked with soldiers who do recruiting duty and I am struck by how torn they are between doing the best job they can do and knowing what it is they are recruiting for. This poem seeks to understand this push pull situation. I respect recruiters for what they must do, often being pulled into recruiting duty when it is the last thing they want to do. Again, this poem does not describe any one recruiter nor is it intended to depict a verbatim experience, but is a synthesis of those I have encountered. By the way, SAW stands for Squad Automatic Weapon (it is a light machine gun).


Quota

With a wall to wall chest of medals,
A handshake for the parent,
Free pens and caps all around,
Funding for college (obscures the truth)
At the corner’s of the Recruiter’s hard lips as
the SAW bucks and smokes in his hands
(he remembers it all)
the worried look on the mother’s face
she signs the parental release for her 17yr old
“Man, you are gonna look good in uniform
Playing football is gonna help you a lot!
You are honoring your mother today
Raise your right hand, state your name and”
You can’t hear IEDs screaming towards you.
Angry metal and flame floating out with
No escape/no Haji to fight as diesel blackened
Headaches spiderweb your thoughts like the
Bloodied windshield from the RPG
He pulls the limp, legless SGT from the fire
“You goin’ infantry?
Huge bonus if you re-enlist
Hell, I’ll swear you back in, myself.
No matter what, you will always be a soldier
You can always be proud of that”.
Then the woman and her starry-eyed son
Step out into the strip mall’s snowy parking lot.
He meant every word he said to the high school football star.
But couldn’t tell him (or anyone else) how
He fought to go back down range
Would go in place of any recruit he enlisted.
He needs to go back so he can (somehow...magically) stop
A convoy being hit and keep
His last recruit from slumping over the wheel and
Going away with the sun into endless night.
Glancing from his recruiting awards
To the piles of paperwork on his desk
He hesitates,
Haunted from meeting
His quota.

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Let me know your thoughts. Take care.

b