(To be sung by a rock and roll band!)
Oh, no!
They come again—-relentless,
the demons even at 71.
One hundred fifty times I flew THE BEST! C-130As.
No going home after April 1970.
No USA. Just protesters and hatred
greeted us.

Mid-air diversion again! Drop load.
RIG—-medivac! No engine to fix!
Just screaming Army troops and young Marines.
But hey, I was 19, already a Sergeant!
I never deserved those stripes.
Wanna know why?
The Air Force needed NCOs—too many killed.
Next man up!

I want my MOM, they screamed.
Blood on the floor, we slipped and slid.
I held his hand and then closed his eyes.
Fly faster, Aircraft Commander!
Screw altitude and safety; it doesn’t matter!
Only hospitals are what count.

We land, help offload,
the six of us in tatters, all shaking.
Back to the load, wishing for ten stiff drinks.
We fly, pick up the load and I make it finally
to the broken bird.
The Army guys knew what we did.
Now they set up a perimeter
and I go to work on that wounded bird.
Back to base it goes with me on it.
Maybe two, three or four days later,
after the parts I need make it to me,
the Army guys treat me like gold!
Share sandbag hoochs and yummy C-rats,
even a nice hot beer

Back to base and the comforts of a flightline!
Hey, Sergeant Wangard, we need some help.
Mind going again? 006 lost number four engine.
I don’t know, never counted, you see.
Vietnam was the only place I wanted to be!
100? 125? 150?
Missions never stopped but my mind did!

After three different times in ‘Nam,
she gave up the ghosts and I was medevaced
because I was nuts!
At 71 the demons still come.
Hey, Brother or Sister, come give me some help.
I can’t fight alone; the bastards are invisible.
Memory Banks explode
as I close the eyes on that poor soul!