- Joined
- Mar 20, 2004
- Messages
- 270
- Points
- 53
Up before dawn to get on the slick,
I have my ruck and gun.
The guy beside me is looking sick,
As we race to beat the sun.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
Once up in the cool air,
My stomach is churning away.
I re-check my gear and hardware,
Getting ready for my first CA.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
As my feet dangle out the door,
I try to calm my shaking hands.
As the sun rises even more,
I can see the Central Highlands.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
I try to see through the mountain mist,
To see what can be seen.
Suddenly the chopper makes a twist;
Was that a fuckin' tracer of green?
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
The crew chief says "The LZ's hot;
So get off my ship real quick."
As we go in I hear a shot,
And feel like I could be sick.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
Now it's finally my chopper's turn;
We're about five feet off the ground.
To my chest I feel a punch and a burn,
As I hear the crack of another round.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
Jesus, I feel in a world of hurt;
Why am I still in the door?
Someone is grabbing me by my shirt,
Pulling me back onto the floor.
"You're not going in, boy.
You're not going in."
TOM
I have my ruck and gun.
The guy beside me is looking sick,
As we race to beat the sun.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
Once up in the cool air,
My stomach is churning away.
I re-check my gear and hardware,
Getting ready for my first CA.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
As my feet dangle out the door,
I try to calm my shaking hands.
As the sun rises even more,
I can see the Central Highlands.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
I try to see through the mountain mist,
To see what can be seen.
Suddenly the chopper makes a twist;
Was that a fuckin' tracer of green?
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
The crew chief says "The LZ's hot;
So get off my ship real quick."
As we go in I hear a shot,
And feel like I could be sick.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
Now it's finally my chopper's turn;
We're about five feet off the ground.
To my chest I feel a punch and a burn,
As I hear the crack of another round.
We're going in, boys.
We're going in.
Jesus, I feel in a world of hurt;
Why am I still in the door?
Someone is grabbing me by my shirt,
Pulling me back onto the floor.
"You're not going in, boy.
You're not going in."
TOM