The Story of a Boy Drafted to Korea: A Poem

By Cathy W.

My best friend and I were inseperable

Since we were nine

What was mine was his

And what was his was mine.

Then one day when I was eighteen

The Western Union boy came

To deliver a telegraph I had been dreading

That said "Drafted to Korea" and my name.

I ran down the street to tell him about it

His mother opened the door

Her eyes red and swollen from crying

My friend had also been drafted in the war.

At least we would be there together

Helping each other through

Because without him to support me

I don't know what I would do.

We arrived at boot camp six weeks later

Our duffel bags packed and our uniforms pressed

We arrived to a Major who only knew how to yell

And scream, "The American Army is the best!"

At the end of boot camp

The Major said, "It's time to go, to go fight.

Hold your heads up high

For what you are doing is right."

He looked us in the eye and stated,

"You might very well be saving America, you know.

The Commie threat is always present,

And you have to defeat this godless foe."

We were shipped to Korea

Right to the front lines

Where we tried to avoid flying bullets

And invisible, deadly mines.

We were heading into enemy territory

The booms and bangs of weapons were too near

My buddy was yelling something to me

But the cracks of guns was all I could hear.

I heard the bullet whiz by

I heard the sound of flesh being ripped apart

I heard a scream from far away

As if it was torn from the heart.

I saw my buddy's mouth open wide in shock

Why did it have to be him? Why?!?

Then I saw the blood pouring out of my chest

And realized it was I who would die.

He picked me up

And dragged me out of the way

Then he yelled in my ear

"You'll be okay!"

He got up and ran to the medics

I saw him waving his arms at me

The medics began to crawl quickly in my direction

Before everything became too blurry to see.

I awoke to a strange bumping feeling

So I looked down to see only sky

Then I heard the sound of chopper blades

And knew that to a MASH unit I would fly.

I was tired of fighting to stay awake

So I surrendered to the sleep

The blackness came over me

The dark was black and deep.

Sometime later I heard a voice from far away

"Priority one! I'll take him now! Let's go!"

Then the sounds of sirens from ambulances

And I slowly opened my eyes to a painful glow.

I was on a gurney

Being bumped painfully

Some corpsman were running toward the OR

Where I would have surgery.

I screamed in pain it hurt so bad

I couldn't stand it---it burned

It was eating the flesh of my chest

At my scream, a tall man turned.

"He's awake, let's get him prepped,"

The tall, dark-headed man said.

"Margaret, will you assist?"

Then she looked down and leaned over my head.

"He's young, no more than a kid,"

The nurse said, tears in her eyes.

"They keep getting younger," the surgeon replied,

"And too many of them die."

They put the mask over my mouth

And I felt tired again

But this darkness was different

Than the other had been.

It was brighter, there was hope

Perhaps I would survive

I didn't want to die yet

I just wanted to go home alive.

I woke up hours later

In a room full of cots filled with wounded men

There was a heavy weight on my chest

But beside me was my old friend.

"Hey, buddy!" I managed to strangle out.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't leave you here not knowing how you were,

So I went AWOL," he answered, coming near.

"So how are you?" he asked

His face full of fear.

"Okay, I guess," I told him

But his face didn't clear.

Did he know something I didn't?

Was this something so bad that he didn't want to tell me?

Was I dying?

What could it be?

"Tell me the truth," I said,

Staring into his face,

"Am I really okay?

Am I a hopeless case?"

"Nah," he answered,

Avoiding my eyes

"You're lying!" I yelled.

I could always tell when he lies.

"You'll be just fine.

They have the best doctors here.

They even have a sign up

That says 'Best Care Anywhere.'"

I lay back down

My chest was so tight

I closed my eyes

And whispered, "Good night."

He grabbed my hand and held it

I could feel his sweaty palm

Then I drifted into a sleep

Where my dreams were anything but calm.

The bullets, the cannons, the bombs

Everything aimed right at me

Then I fell to the ground screaming

Because I knew what true pain can be.

I awoke with a start

But it took longer for my eyes to open

They didn't seem to want to work

And the heaviness in my chest became a burden.

"Doctor," I gasped

As he walked by

He stopped in front of me

And I asked, "Am I going to die?"

"What?" he replied, startled by my bluntness.

I repeated my question with a sigh

And he looked at my chest

Then square in the eye.

"I won't lie to you," he replied,

Serious as can be,

"Your condition is very serious,

But you won't die on my watch; trust me."

"But I'm having trouble breathing.

On my chest I can feel a weight.

Please, doctor, help me.

Help before it's too late."

"Let me check you out,"

The lanky doctor said.

"By the way, my name's Hawkeye Pierce,"

He added as he leaned over me in the bed.

I began to reply

To tell him my name

But suddenly I was coughing uncontrollably

And running two nurses came.

"Chest tube!" he yelled

As he tried desperately to save me.

"And get his friend in here!"

Then I noticed it was getting hard to see.

"We're losing him!" Hawkeye yelled

Sounding like he was talking from way up high

Was he getting farther away

Or was I?

I could hear my buddy

Or at least I think it was he

"Hang on!" he was pleading

"Stay with me! Don't leave me!"

But I could feel myself being pulled

To a warm and fuzzy place

Like a tunnel with a light at the end

And there were tears coming down my face.

For a split second I was back

I was floating above my body

Hawkeye had tears in his eyes

As he desperately tried to revive me.

The nurse was shaking her head sadly

"He's gone, doctor," she said

And her voice seemed to echo

My buddy stared at her. "He can't be dead!"

"Goodbye," I whispered as I floated upward

I addressed my best buddy before I floated away,

"Tell my parents that I love them when you get home,

And thank you, buddy, for being there for me every single day."

"And Hawkeye, don't blame yourself,"

I had to add.

"Blame the guns and the senseless killing.

I shouldn't have been here, but at home with mom and dad."

And I floated up and away

But the last sounds I heard

Were the sounds of weeping

For yet another death that had occurred.

THE END