"A masterpiece of war, suffering and reconciliation." H. H. Gregory

Prologue
(from The Light Where Shadows End)
"I will not die here."
Others might, but not I.
I said it under my breath during lulls in firefights.
"I will not die here."
I said it as I walked out of the company's perimeter on eight-man night patrols deep into the terrifying jungle.
"I will not die here."
I said it as I lay on my back three hundred meters from the company's barb-wired perimeter on two-man listening posts as enemy soldiers moved in green shadows around us.
"I will not die here."
I said it as a promise, as a vow to myself against the war, as a pledge to my own allegiance.
I said it over and over to keep humping down the trail each day.
"I will not die..."
Not here.
Not in this god-forsaken country a world away from my wife and home.
Not here in this sick excuse for a war.
Not here where a life wasted is ever a bullet or trip wire away.
Not here.
Not now.
I said it after the mortar exploded and left me a crumpled heap on the ground.
I mouthed it in half-breaths.
"I will not die here."
I repeated it over and over like a mantra as I waited for the medevac to come.
"I will not die here."
I said it as I watched my buddies pull a poncho over the FNG's body parts.
I said it as blood pushed the air out of my punctured lung.
I said it as I looked at my reflection in Mike's eyes-a bloody, ripped face I've never seen.
I said it as I couldn't breathe.
"I will not die here."
I said it silently as I started to slip into irreversible shock from loss of blood.
"I will not die......
here..."

From Private Entries
2/23/69
No one knows
where we're going-
Cambodia? Laos? China?-
no one knows.

I thought the trail
would end somewhere,
but it hasn't.

It goes on alone,
and we follow,
each day
one less body,
one less name.

It's as if the jungle
wants to
devour us
limb by limb
and name
by name
until all we can do
is crawl back
like snakes
to the road-

as if the booby traps
owned eyes
and waited
for us to come.

--No, I can't write you tomorrow.
Tomorrow I'll be on patrol.
2/25/69
Patrol, hell,
hunt's more like it,
search and destroy.

A branch quivers,
a scorpion skitters
across the path
and I'm on
rock n' roll,

my finger curls
round the trigger
and I...

SHOOT! SHOOT! SHOOT!
SHOOT! SHOOT!

till nothing stirs...

till the only sound I hear
is my own breathing,

my heart beating
against its
cage of bone.

2/26/69
Some nights
that's all there is
to bring me back
from dreaming-
almost consoling
to lie here
wrapped in my poncho
listening to it
drum on...

rg cantalupo is a poet, playwright, filmmaker, novelist, and director. His work has been published widely in literary journals in the United States, England, and Australia.
His books include The Light Where Shadows End, Kill Today, So Tomorrow Will Not Come, You Don't Know Me, Involving Residence, No Thanks, Walking Water On Earth, The Art of Naming, Graces For The Wonder, A Red-Starred Gold Flag Flutters In the Wind, The Last Strigoi, and The Endurance: Journey To Worlds End.
He served with the 25th Infantry Division as an RTO (radio operator), for an infantry company from 1968-69 and received three purple hearts and a Bronze Star with a Combat V for Valor Under Fire.
His books can be purchased through New World Publishers or the author at rgcantalupo@gmail. com