Class of ’68 by Merryn Williams

Men were selected for the Vietnam war

by dates of birth. I watched a drama where

schoolboys sat round their own screens, waiting for

a voice to pick a date out of the air.

‘The twenty-sixth of June’. I felt a thrill

of horror, as the actors froze – that’s my

son’s birthday. Young men can refuse to kill;

much later on, they can’t refuse to die.

Now, the Reaper cuts a first swathe through

the ranks of men who did and didn’t fight;

no guessing if it’s him, or him, or you;

we’ll soon find out. It’s random, like the date.

The men, and smaller groups of women, go;

this is one war to which you can’t say no.

 

by Merryn Williams