I hold a black and yellow photo in my hand. The Polaroid does not convey how loud is the bang Of the M60 the scrawny, mustached man to the right cradles. Tops off, cigarettes lit, five men who are all long dead smile Eerily at the camera in the jungle. Ken was one of those men. The choice was not his to make, And yet he went anyway. Such was the stuff of a dying breed. I never got to know the real him; he hid the soldier I was trying to cultivate. Heroism is not written on service records, Hippie spit the only accolade for his sacrifice. It is so odd to think that when he was my age He shot to kill. He was only nineteen. The enemy could not kill him. A slower fate Awaited him, sinister Agent Orange’s black magic. And yet he persevered to the end, A soldier to the core. He came from a day and age When rifles were made of plastic and young men of steel. I hope I carry with me some small, Small piece of him with me. I will never forget the words his friend said to me, The day of his funeral: “If you’re half the man Ken was, You’ll be one of the greatest men I’ll ever know.”
Matthew Finley is an ROTC cadet from Cincinnati, Ohio. He is currently studying mechanical engineering, and hopes to branch Infantry upon commissioning as a Second Lieutenant. His hobbies include writing, playing the electric bass, and studying military leadership.