It was in Elephant Valley, 1970, I saw him die,
a brave young man who loved to fly.
He went out of this world in a moment so fast,
but his fight to live went on to the last.
His Gunship fell past me in a mass of flame
but his courage was strong, for when the end came
despite a crippled bird without control
and the rising jungle coming up like a shoal,
as his flaming Huey plunged close to the ground,
I saw the nose pitch up and rotor slow down.
I was watching his last chance hitch,
with flames in the cockpit, he still "pulled pitch".*
To continue to fight against such pain and strife
sets an example to us for the rest of our life.
No matter how bitter the stuff in Life's cup,
take a big gulp and never give up.
