The Numbers Game Poem by jerry hughes

They spun the barrel
but you didn't win.
Your number came up and
within weeks they'd turned
you into a killing machine.
But they didn't teach you
how to die.

With uniform pressed,
buckles gleaming, spit and polished,
you followed the Judas officer
up the gangplank into the hell
of Vietnam.

On your very first patrol
you didn't see the sniper
camouflaged in leaves.
But his trained eyes saw you
and talking aim, fired once.
The only sound you made
a sigh, echoed around the world.