The Good Death Of Captain William Strong Eagle
He was a Huey pilot.
I didn’t know him well.
I was only twenty.
He was the first Indian
I had ever met though
he called himself a Skin.
Came from northern Nebraska.
Full blooded Lakota Sioux.
He was tall, strong,
quiet and soft spoken
with a ethereal authority.
He could sense my fear.
At the end of the first day
over An Loc I was
beyond fear, beyond
terrified, barely functional.
While we refueled
he came over and told me
not to worry. Every day,
he said, was a good day to die.
First time I ever heard
Crazy Horse’s famous phrase.
In the morning, his waddling,
overloaded chopper took
a SAM missile up the ass
and totally disintegrated:
no wreckage, no bodies,
nothing left at all but pink mist.
Just a puff of pink mist
where a warrior had ridden
his sky pony into battle.
There is nothing
really left to say
except I hope that for him
it was a very good day.
*****
An Loc, Vietnam, April, 1972
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