After the Chinese crossed the Yalu River
I was relieved when a sliver of shrapnel
pierced my right elbow—my ticket home,
I thought, like guys I saw shooting themselves.
But my sarge had other plans for me.
With my arm in a sling, and my elbow
throbbing in pain, he barked at me
to get my ass back in the jeep and drive.
I careened over potholes and dead bodies
until I delivered one M777 Howitzer gun.
But it didn’t halt Mao Zedong’s massive assault
from slaughtering 2500 of our troops who were on the run.