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CAJUN MEDEVAC FEW

Now children, sit and listen well of some soldiers I once knew.
Of pilots, and some crew chiefs and the operations few,
of maintenance and medics and the headquarters crew too.
Their task was then, to help sick men and little children too.
They did it well, as their stories tell, the
Cajun Medevac few.

The tales are all so daring, of the pilots perfect flight, the crew chiefs
never dropped a wrench and maintenance worked through the night.
Of medics who never lost a soul, or operations a flight.
Of headquarters with that great beef stew and our pay was always right.
Their stories they are made to meld, and tell of tales so bold.
The adventures seemed to find them all, no bar to young or old.
So listen well the tales they tell, the
Cajun Medevac few.

The Cajun name, became quite famed and was known throughout the land.
No mission was too great or small; to help their fellow man.
These men of men, were giants then, their brilliance lit up the night.
The generals all would smile with joy to know they were at hand.
The greatest care, for all in the land, from the
Cajun Medevac few.

So listen well, these tales they tell; some of them are true.
Of great, bold flights on the coldest nights, with the sickest patients too.
From the crackle of the radios, to the thumping of the blades it all came
together and many lives were saved. The feats were bold and daring, but performed by common man. These giants then, they are your friends, your neighbors and family too. They are out there, they're everywhere, the
Cajun Medevac few.

As the years go by and the stories pass I think of one and all.
So do not fear, in my twilight years, when a tear begins to fall.
They are my friends, these giants them and I miss them one and all.
The Cajun Medevac few.
Mike Curtis

One from a Crewchief, and Medic's say we can't read!

CAJUN MEDEVAC

The humid Louisiana skies, home to many that fly,
   Echoes the thrashing of popping blades through the sky.
The noisy crescendo reaching its now whining peak,
   As the turbine powered helicopter passes with a streak.

The sounds so commonly heard from overhead,
   Rarely causes anyone to turn their head.
Those that do, are somewhat mildly surprised,
   To see the color of olive drab in the skies.

A closer look reveals its badges of mercy,
   Suddenly giving reason to its flight of hurry.
Adorned with crosses of red in squares of white.
   The mission of this chopper is a Medevac flight.

A far cry from the tracer filled skies of Southeast Asia,
   And frantic calls of "Grunts" trying to raise you.
Veteran crewmen and machines perform small miracles at home,
   Transporting sick and injured to hospitals with aplomb.

Born in combat and matured in peacetime,
   Medevac helicopters race to save precious time.
Time for doctors and nurses, and paramedics too,
   To save what is priceless to me and you.

From newborn infants in need of surgery,
   To victims of heart attacks they carry with urgency.
They give us more than we can ever give back
   The men and women of the 872nd Cajun Medevac.
Mel Lutgrin

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