Lying in undergrowth, Sweating, silent, frightened. I watch as flares light up the sky. From the river's edge, I stare blank faced at troops screaming, Dying in the murky filth. A helicopter finds a last resting-place among treetops, The water boils blood red. Daybreak, move out, Leave the smoking bush behind. Into the open, My eyes lift at the sound of jets crossing the skyline, And stare as napalm spreads its glare through the jungle. A village smoulders, Men, women and children lie dead or wounded. The commanding officer, Cold, wry and uncaring, Walks through with a smile, It twists your mind. You begin not to care, Kill without mercy, Once a child of proud parents, Now a murderer of children. The last vestige of remorse flees from my soul, Can't think straight, Kill or be killed, or kill for fun. It's not a game anymore, I want to get out of this bloody mess, Want to go home. The streets are peaceful, Yet a warm breeze carries no relief. My wife talks of divorce at a mind torn with memories, I pray to go back. The sky whistles with shells, Napalm tortures with its sweet smell. What's happened to me? I don't smile anymore.