Poem 1966 David M. Macina
In this hole, it’s my new home,
the rats and scum are family.
Blood and terror circle friends,
there’s no way out but death.
Getting out, only to be outcasts,
because they said victory was not ours.
We fought an enemy we could not see,
for a country that turned us away.
Remember, we did not go for ourselves,
we faced horror and pain for you.