by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 1942~Sept. 1945
I dug a hole
Into the sand
About the size
Of an average man.
T'was not too big
Nor too deep,
It is where
I intend to sleep.
The trucks are lined up
In a row,
The Humvees
And the rest.
Between these
Monster motors
We all shall find
A bit of rest.
We never know
Just when to duck,
The rounds come
In as pairs.
A mortar or
A rocket
Will come flying
Through the air.
Perhaps we’ll be lucky
And not be put upon,
Perhaps there will be
No wounded
At the break of dawn.
Perhaps we'll make it
Through the night
And watch the sun
Come up bright.
And perhaps the
Company commander,
Won't be writing
Letters home.
* * *
About the author: Robert Cook served with Reg. Weapons Co.(2d-2d) from 1942~44, at Guadalcanal
and Tarawa, during a 33-month overseas tour.
