Twenty years. I still remember The ...

Twenty years. I still remember The sun-blown bad smell and the pit At least couple hundred yards from The bight we'd anchored guns in. They were blasting at the mountains, The beach was nearly ours.
The fragrance kept leaking back. I deliberation of garbage cans Behind chopsuey restaurants Of to one's home strangely appealing on A summer's night, meaning another Kind of life. Which made the difference.
When the three of us, youngest in The ship's company were handed poles and told To gain the deadmen underground Or join them, we saw it a gloomy Sort of lark. And lashed to tree The snipers had us dancing.