Let It Be Known

Of flesh and blood; no less, no more.

As an eighteen year old he went off to war.

Alone and afraid into the tunnels he would go;

The dangers waiting he could never know.

He was tunnel rat, C.W. and other names;

But to keep going below was just insane.

Time after time he surfaced with a boyish grin;

Robbing him of his youth was a terrible sin.

Booby traps, punji sticks, snakes coiled in wait;

A sound, a tripped wire could have sealed his fate.

During one firefight he took a round to the head;

How close it was for this man to be dead.

Dust filled lungs, nary enough room;

The tunnels no more than a readied tomb.

Few acknowledged the sacrifices the rats gave;

Scouring the darkness in premature graves.

Seventeen years later in a group formed to mend;

I met this man, he became my friend.

Now ten years later we still speak of the war;

He is still a hero, no less, no more.

Let it be known.

Michael D. Monfrooe

July 1987