They passed thru
the tail end
of a hurricane,
the troops were
somewhat sick but
few complained.
They knew they had
to keep themselves
at the ready.

Out of the dark
it came,
the time they'd
been waiting for.
Below decks the
Sergeant gathered
them around and
counseled them
once more.
"Keep your heads down!"
he did say,
"Do not tarry in the tide,
keep your rifle
above your head and
 cherish every round.
Make them count!"

The crack of dawn
put them in boats
and headed them
for the beach.
They fanned out
from the rendezvous,
their destiny
to reach.
Sergeant lead his
platoon and
splashed upon
the shore.
He only lost a
single man,
no less and no more.

The battle was
short and bloody;
within a couple dozen hours
they claimed it for their own.
The Sergeant led his men,
and sacrificed his safety.
The brass were impressed,
you see, and
wrote him up for bravery.
They recommended
that he be
In the field.

As a First Lieutenant
and to help command,
his old platoon
was taken away
and he was shipped
across the bay.
They committed him
to the task at hand
 with which
they were not
quite finished.
They needed every
breathing man
who could walk or
who could stand.

The fight was going strong
when he at first arrived;
he took over a platoon
whose leader
had not survived.
The place where he
was sent is now
a famous ridge,
it bears the name
of some pork
that is close to ribs.
He and his gunners
stood firm in the fray
and repulsed the
charging horde
they speak of yet today.

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