I got this poem, if you want to call it that, when in Vietnam. I don’t know who the author is. Doesn’t really matter. What’s important is to hope he still is able to hear that sound today.
I think there are a couple readers of this thread that knows this guy.
The Man In the Doorway
They came in low and hot, close to the trees and dropped their tail in a flare, rocked forward and we raced for the open doorways. This was always the worst for us, we couldn't hear anything and ...................................
Thank you for posting this.
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