The op was set, the briefing over.
Off to Matty's tent,
No way we're staying sober,
It's going to be booze and cards all night.
What about tomorrow?
So what, we're not contrite.

There's something about an Armilite Dawn,
With the choppers chompin,
To take us to a place,
That made us wish that we'd never been born.

Push'n through the scrub,
Try'n to quicken the pace.
Gotta get those clicks up,
So we'll be in time for the race.

For it's the cup back home,
And we don't want to miss out.
Too much track hopp'n,
Gotta be VC about.

The explosion it was that stopped our run,
Hutch yelled out, "what's wrong with the gun!"
Donney shouted back, "Matty was gone."
The 'doc' made his way back down the line,
Anguish, terror, despair, sadness,
His eyes reflected our feelings for all time.

© Gunner John (Macca) McMahon
Forward Observer Party
B Company 5RAR
Vietnam 1969-70