When
By John Henningson, Army
Writing Type: Poem, Photograph
By John Henningson
VA Medical Center--West Haven, CT
It's not a question of WHERE,
and HOW doesn't really matter.
WHAT is also meaningless,
but WHEN can make nerves tatter.
Will it be in a rice paddy,
wading through the muck
or on a dark jungle trail?
It's just a matter of luck.
Will it be a booby trap
or an errant Arty blast?
It really always ends the same,
as long as it is fast.
For in 'Nam,
death became a certainty,
an acceptable turn of fate.
The end was always with us
whether now or at a later date.
So WHEN can became the nagging ache,
the darkness in our brain.
The uncertainty debilitates
and could turn a man insane.
But once you accepted that uncertainty,
you could push it all aside.
You could drive on, do your best
and face each day with pride.
