by Cpl. Robert L. Cook
Jan. 42~Sept. 45
The order comes
From down the line,
And quickly passes on.
We're hunkered down
In our own holes,
Feeling scared,
Not feeling bold.
Of all the words
Used in command,
There are two
That chill my sweat.
I hear them still,
I can't forget:
"Fix Bayonets!"
The morning light
Is barely born,
The mist is still arising
When someone in
The jungle deep
Prepares for our
Surprise.
A distant bugle,
Strange to us,
Sounds forth
In clarion call
To let us know
Their intent:
To kill us
One and all.
It's tough enough
To face a man
Some thirty yards apart,
A lookin' down a rifle
Aimed at his beatin' heart.
But when you look
Him in the eye,
And fend him
Left or right,
There is a scary feeling as
You know you've got to fight.
You know it's
Him or you
Right then,
There ain't no time
To think.
For one of you
Is gonna die
Within an eyeball's blink.
For most of us
Who fought the war,
Times like those
Were rare.
Thank God
For all his goodness,
My precious life
Was spared.
So when I see movies
And hear those words again,
The chilling of the moment
Is still locked well within.
* * *
About the author: Robert Cook served with Reg.
& Tarawa, during a 33-month overseas tour.
The Psychology of the Bayonet
An excerpt:
"The sharpened spade is a more handy and many-sided weapon; not only can it be used for jabbing a man under the chin, but it has greater weight; and if one hits between the neck and shoulder it easily cleaves as far down as the chest. The bayonet frequently jams on the thrust and then a man has to kick hard on the other fellow's belly to pull it out again; and in the interval he may easily get one himself. And what's more the blade often gets broken off."
