by Jack C. Casliglione

High on the deck of a flying wreck a Paratrooper stands.

 He stares straight ahead and listens with dread, as he waits those final commands.

There's a green light glow and a shout, "Let's go" as he leaps straight into space.

 There's the thrill of the drop -- the hard opening shock

And the starlight shows fear on his face.

A quick sigh of relief, then he thinks of the rest,

To be met when he reaches the ground.

Then he looks far below, for a safe p/ace to go

From the shells that are bursting around.

There's a rip and a slash, and hard jamming crash

And his canopy hangs from a tree

 Though in a poem I can’t show it

‘Cause the guy in the chute was me.

In a state of collapse, I unbuckled my straps and I shakily rose from the sod,

No bones were broken, the night is a cloak and I offer a prayer to God.

Then an enemy gun sets me off on the run as I hastily hunt our CP

You can think what you please, but I'm weak at the knees

 Cause the Jerries are hunting for me.

They say in this war that we're fighting for

All the good things in life and for freedom

But the crazy galoot in the parachute won't live so long as to need 'em!