White Feather

30 January 2003
By Jack Mergott


Mine was the life the sniper saved;
it seems a lot to me.
Whoever thought I'd live to see
the age of fifty-three.

I was the scared and lonely kid
who didn't know the score,
and never knew the kinds of things
that wait inside a war.

The sniper crawled through Hell
to find the man who planned my death.
The General never got the chance
to take another breath.

There was a battle, never fought
in which I should have died,
if not for Burke and Hathcock
who, a whole platoon denied.

In the dark along the trail
she waited with her knife.
Apache Woman sought my blood
till Carlos took her life.

The fire came and seared my skin
and there I would have died
but Hathcock came and burned himself
to rescue those inside.

I never thought I'd be alive
today to write these lines,
but when the sniper drew his bead...
the life he saved was mine.


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