Taxi to Hell

in memoriam The Fallen at Omaha

Kept hearing Piccadilly Circus 
but didn't get it. London, right?
I prayed for more storms.
Didn't work: we got word.
Not many slept except 
the dumb and the godly.

Noise. Some goofing off.
Sarge let them have it.
Off the transport. Down the nets.
Into the LCVP.                             (...Higgins boat.)
Jokes. I tried real hard,
grinned till my jaw ached.

Diesel choked my guts
and I kept thinking:
this is the good weather? 
Elbows in ribs. Stinking breath.
Some were still gung ho.
Most went quiet. You hunker down.

Sick and smokes. Mutterings
to moms and sweethearts.
I thought of mom for a spell,
started to make out faces
as Captain briefed us again.
Close now, he said. Now the fear.

Fear. Mouth dry as ash.
Chalk sky gave no clue.
Sea spray gave no clue.
Faces gave no clue.
Heartbeats gave no clue.
Bow ramp descends and shows all.