Post by waya on Apr 11, 2006 19:37:56 GMT -5
This is the second entry that I have made refering to the journal that I kept while being deployed to Iraq
This is WAR! Part 2
I think back three years ago and remember,
Remember the hot days in the harsh climate.
I know what it was that I once did,
I knew then that it could not be undone.
Three years ago today I had a hand in death,
It was a choice of them, or me.
A sandstorm so bad that it choked the sun,
It turned the sky black at 3 pm.
Nothing could be seen no matter how close,
It had to be seen though, we were about to fight.
The enemy had found us through dust and sand,
They were tracking us, watching, waiting.
Command contacted my truck because of this,
I had the short range rockets in tow.
I dropped them off the side of the truck with the help of my crew,
One person guiding 4,000 pounds blindly to the ground,
I sat at the controls of the crane praying I wouldn’t crush him.
Then the fun began.
Guiding the launching vehicle to the munitions pod by voice, not sight,
A hard task in the daylight, and now, in the blackest black,
One wrong step and you run the risk of getting killed.
The launcher stopped right on its mark, but I didn’t,
I put my arm out in front of me, it was less then a foot away,
I backed off in a mild panic,
I knew if it hadn’t stopped I would have been crushed underneath.
Me and my crew quickly rushed back to the safety of our truck cab,
While coughing up sand we drove away.
Around 6 pm that night the sandstorm was over,
The sky told us that we had won that battle,
It was stained with blood.
Everything from the sky to the ground was blood red, everything.
We knew then that our job was done,
But only, for that one day.
Waya
(The part at the end refering to how everything looked like it was covered in blood is true, but it is due to the fact that the dust in Iraq is a dark crimson red. The dust is so finely powdered that it stayed airborn for three days and stuck to everything it touched)
This is WAR! Part 2
I think back three years ago and remember,
Remember the hot days in the harsh climate.
I know what it was that I once did,
I knew then that it could not be undone.
Three years ago today I had a hand in death,
It was a choice of them, or me.
A sandstorm so bad that it choked the sun,
It turned the sky black at 3 pm.
Nothing could be seen no matter how close,
It had to be seen though, we were about to fight.
The enemy had found us through dust and sand,
They were tracking us, watching, waiting.
Command contacted my truck because of this,
I had the short range rockets in tow.
I dropped them off the side of the truck with the help of my crew,
One person guiding 4,000 pounds blindly to the ground,
I sat at the controls of the crane praying I wouldn’t crush him.
Then the fun began.
Guiding the launching vehicle to the munitions pod by voice, not sight,
A hard task in the daylight, and now, in the blackest black,
One wrong step and you run the risk of getting killed.
The launcher stopped right on its mark, but I didn’t,
I put my arm out in front of me, it was less then a foot away,
I backed off in a mild panic,
I knew if it hadn’t stopped I would have been crushed underneath.
Me and my crew quickly rushed back to the safety of our truck cab,
While coughing up sand we drove away.
Around 6 pm that night the sandstorm was over,
The sky told us that we had won that battle,
It was stained with blood.
Everything from the sky to the ground was blood red, everything.
We knew then that our job was done,
But only, for that one day.
Waya
(The part at the end refering to how everything looked like it was covered in blood is true, but it is due to the fact that the dust in Iraq is a dark crimson red. The dust is so finely powdered that it stayed airborn for three days and stuck to everything it touched)
