A Dark & Stormy Night
It was the eve of Thanksgiving
by Michael Pruchnicki
and a night black and cold as hell,
with a stiff north wind blowing
down across the barren slopes
of North Korea from Manchuria -
We didn't know it then
but the hills were alive with Chinese
hiding in ravines and valleys
biding their time in the subzero cold
We were hurtling down the road
in blissful ignorance and haste
to reach battalion in time
for dinner the next day
'Any port in a storm, '
I shouted and turned the truck
onto a barely discernible path
in the snowy waste
I thought I heard a choir belting out
'when the saints go marching in'
full throttle as trumpets sounded
'O to be in that number on a sunlit shore! '
Tent flaps parted and warm golden light
engulfed us as we swam through a haze
of spices and simmering sauces -
Hallejulah! Thanksgiving dinner!