Thin like me,
red hair, freckled,
gap between front teeth,
a Midwesterner,
forgot where.

A replacement,
you were a F.N.G.
Made us laugh,
a clown, sad
behind your mask.
Never got to know you.

Flaked out
even on easy missions.
I treated you
as a non-person,
a pariah to be shunned.

You talked too loud,
made too much noise.
Couldn’t respond
to my basic
combat commands,
fired too much ammo.

We carried you
on a poncho
for 2,000 meters,
crossing a stream,
up a hill.
Dead weight.

F.N.G.: fucking new guy