But Not Yet

by OPOVV, ©2021

(May 31, 2021) — “Why Me Lord” (3:27)

One of these days I’m goin’ to break down and cry,        
But not yet.                                                                                                                                                     

I had a knife at my throat, and the two guys who wanted to do me in I done them in, and I wouldn’t worry about that.

I was sitting next to a guy about like me, but he was from Michigan and back then it was okay to be from the ‘Affirmative Action State’ — as it is known today — and, as I recall, we were talking about cars. I remember that I mentioned a 1965 Ferrari 275 GTB and he was talking about a ’61 Chevy Impala, but it might’ve been a ’58, when somebody shot a piece of lead through his head. I was looking right at him and he was looking right at me, eye to eye, sitting behind a rock that shielded us from enemy fire, but they snuck around to the side and missed me by the thickness of a debit card and put an end to the conversation. I don’t know what upset me more, him dyin’ or our conversation so rudely interrupted, and maybe I should’ve cried about it,                  But not yet.

Later on that very same day a shavetail, an Army 2^nd Lieutenant, came up with the bright idea that if we would surrender come sunrise they would forget all about their maimed and killed and treat us with, maybe not kindness or respect, bur surely they wouldn’t beat us or turn us over to the chinks for a bounty.

I believed I had a better idea, so I led the troops on a totally hopeless mission with absolutely no chance of success but an excellent chance of getting killed, but then, as my argument went, isn’t it better to die fighting than to be tortured to death?

So we crawled on hands and knees, through one heck of a dark night, quietly – I got to drag one of us who was leg-shot – and we killed the so-called guards – kids – with knives and when I got around to the back of them and had them surrounded, that’s when I opened-up as the signal to let loose with everything we had: we used every grenade and, when it was all over, we had a handful of rounds left: we left nothing on the table; it was do or die; it was the last stand; it was my fear of death by a thousand cuts. We got the water that they had, which was the Grand Prize – the enemy dead was the byproduct. I didn’t cry then and I don’t plan to, ever; I mean, they were trying to kill me and they did kill my friend from Michigan. They should not have sent kids to be guards, though. I could’ve cried about them,                                                                                                                                               
But not yet.

I haven’t been to The Wall or to Elvis’s grave, so I haven’t cried about them, although I suppose I should,                                                                            But not yet.

I was pretty darn upset about this last so-called election, but it got me to thinking that maybe the chinks took me – all of us – by surprise and made us prisoners in our own country without even telling us, thanks to China Joe. But I wouldn’t cry about that: I would sneak around behind them in the dead of night and take them out, each and every one of them and while I’m at, I’ll hunt down any Khmer Rouge* ‘soldiers’ and administer justice expeditiously. And on the night I’m talking about, we didn’t take any prisoners because there were none to take, maybe we could’ve or should’ve so maybe I should cry about that,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                But not yet.

So it’s another Memorial Day, and I should’ve died in 1965, on a piece of ground somewhere in Southeast Asia – Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos; what’s the difference? – and haven’t cried about it, maybe I should,                                                                                                                                                         But not yet.

A lot of patriots died for the Constitution, from the Revolutionary War until this day, and I haven’t cried for them, and I think someday I will,                       But not yet.

[*Khmer Rouge: Pol Pot was sponsored by the Chinese.]

“Reflections of My Life” (4:11)

OPOVV