by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 1942~Sept. 1945
The ocean was a cobalt blue
The sky it was an azure hue
The sand below my
GI boot
Was black as midnight:
Black sand. . .Black sand!
From Ol’ Canal
To Jima,
No beach was ever found
That sparkled like a diamond
Beneath the tropic sun:
Black sand. . .Black sand!
It soaked up the wounded's blood
That came with every shell,
It mired the tracks
Of trucks and tanks
And paved the road to hell:
Black sand. . .Black sand!
It wasn't safe to dig a hole
To ward off shot and shell,
It didn't stop the bullets
That sent you off to hell:
Black sand. . .Black sand!
If you escaped that grimy stuff
And had a tale to tell,
You could not forget it
That sand would not dispel:
Black sand. . .Black sand!
So when you sit upon a beach
That sparkles in the sun,
Remember when
You hugged the sand
That surrounds
A foreign land;
You did your duty
Like a man
There upon that dirty sand:
Black sand. . .Black sand!
* * *
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.
