Slowly the mumbling soldiers file
in and sit at the U.S.O.,
Hoping to find a forgotten smile
In the dance and music of the show.

All attending, REMFs and Brass,
Applauding, cheering, laughing hard;
And while they sit there on the grass,
The Grunt is on perimeter guard.

Hearing the music and the laughter,
While listening for the thump and whine
Of an incoming mortar round, and after,
The Roar as it crashes down the line;

But this day, Charlie doesn't show.
And that's as close as a Grunt can get
To the entertainment of the U.S.O.,
And he sighs as he mops his sweat.


(2000)

John Bliven Morin

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-u-s-o-show/