Knee Deep in Commie Blood

There I was knee deep in commie blood when it happened. At the time we thought it as some kind of alien technologies, must've been discovered by some deep digging Chinamen. All of a sudden a meteor had struck the battlefield. It took a few minutes to realize that the commies had not done this. For a few fleeting moments commies and Americans temporarily suspended engagement and reveled in the awesome event.

Soon after men picked up their weapons and started launching rockets at each other once again. A rocket landed in my proximity, and I was flown yards away. I couldn't hear the noise of the gunfire for a brief second and there was peace in the ringing in my ears.

the grass is greener on the other side. Well when you're laying face down in the mud, that's all you've got to look at and you know the maxim is true. All you can think about is the wind blowing over a fresh mowed lawn, the smell of charcoal cooking up a nice banquet for you and yours. My full bosomed wife, holding the lemonade at the red checkered picnic table. All of a sudden you hear an earth shattering noise of a 47 ford misfiring while you're working on it. Wait, but this is 1955? Uh oh, we're back in war. It was the sound of another missile coming towards my unit. Hours, years maybe even months I don't know later, I awoke in a prison camp.

I've been in so many wars I don't know who we're even fighting anymore. Is it the Russians, the Chinamen, the Germans? Who's keeping track. All I know is how many bullets are in the chamber of my machine gun. Right now I don't have a machine gun because I am a POW. A prisoner of war. This is the story of Admiral Jones Hutchinson.

They worked us to the bone, and when we were hungry they'd make us eat each tree bark. To get through it we'd quote each other bible scripture; the testament, written on holy toilet paper. Some would call it a concentration camp, but I was distracted. All I could think about was killing these commie bastards and freeing my brothers to get back to that tall voluptuous glass of lemonade.

Just like the good lord brought us the baby Jesus a drill burst through the floor one cold November afternoon. I didn't even know we had this type of technology. We were set free. Thanksgiving was probably going on back home, but this was just as good. The boys and I turned on our captors, and I ripped the heart out of a young soldier running by. With my hand reaching into the gushing wound I found a note, it said free the prisoners, the war is over.

I reckon about a quarter of us made it out a live. We praise the name of the fallen in our church and thoughts. But back home, they're forgotten, that's how they really die.

Seems like no one really cares less they were really drafted.