AIR ASSAULT

BY
DENNIS W. LID

The morning fog

Hung,
Mystically,
Over the red clay strip.

The ships lay

Dormant,
Deceptively,
Before the deadly trip.

The slicks gleamed

Wet,
Broodingly,
Seeking the sun’s first glint.

The guns sat

Cold,
Moodily,
Awaiting their deathly stint.

Fog and ships,

Slicks and guns,
Time draws near
To make the run.

The men stood

Still,
Patiently,
Trying to keep their cool.

The old man feigned

Calm,
Inwardly,
Straining to trigger the duel.

The sun’s rays

Probed,
Searchingly,
Through the misty grip.
The air burnt
Clear,
Permissively,
Prompting action on the strip.

Men and leader

See the sun;
Now it’s time
To start the run.

The CO’s order

Barked,
Commandingly,
Setting action to the scene.

The ships’ motors

Coughed,
Reluctantly,
Spinning blades to silver sheen.

The special teams

Mounted,
Anxiously,
Intent to meet the enemy.

The rotor blades

Strained,
Triumphantly,
Propelling all to destiny.

Order and team,

Motor and blade,
Action is taken
To launch the raid.

The ships flew

High,
Steadily,
Seeking out the landing zone.

All eyes looked

Down,
Searchingly,
All ears were racked with engine drone.

2
The landing site
Fixed,
Unerringly,
The ships descended to the spot.

The guns’ anger

Blazed,
Voraciously,
Because the landing zone was hot.

Ships in flight,
Eyes on site,
Guns blazed forth
With deadly might.

The slicks went

In,
Fearlessly,
The teams debarked and met the foe.

The ships took

Flight,
Successfully,
By breaking right and keeping low.

They took some

Hits,
Luckily,
No major damage was sustained.

The ships re-

Grouped,
Dauntlessly,
Heading home though teams remained.

The slicks went in

And made the hit,
Re-grouped again
But shook a bit.

They all looked

Back,
Anxiously,
For signs of team security.

3
The teams fought
On,
Aggressively,
Baptized in bloody purity.

A trail of
Corpses,
Prophetically,
Proclaimed the cost of victory.

The beaten
Foe,
Despairingly,
Withdrew from glorious history.

All the teams

Fought the foe;
The enemy losses
Professed their woe.

The sound of
Battle,
Reluctantly,
Gave way to calm serenity.

The battle
Won,
Victoriously,
Yet no team formed an entity.

The old man

Lay,
Lifelessly,
With jungle canopy his vault.

The men were

Mute,
Respectfully,
Viewing impact of air assault.

The battle won,

The old man dead,
Assault by air
Put us ahead.

(Drafted: Oct. 1969; Final: Oct. 2002)