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They sent us in, just boys and men,
Not knowing when we’re home again,
We’ll see our kin, we know not when,
Maybe not at all.
Ill equipped, they set us free,
To face a foe we never see,
With mines they’d kill my mates and me,
Together we will fall.
Inadequate equipment sent,
No armour, boots or nourishment,
No helicopters, rotors bent,
But still we battle on.
Making inroads on the way
Losing comrades every day
One by one, we’re made to pay,
Young boys and men soon gone.
A car bomb here, a land mine there,
They plant the traps without a care,
From young men’s bodies, limbs they tear,
Scattered all around.
In body bags, they send them home
The silent dead, the living, moan.
No longer they with sweethearts roam,
To heaven they are bound.
Flying in from up above,
Soaring down like a dove,
Waiting are the ones we love,
The coffins to arrive.
Shrouded in the union flag,
From the planes the casks they drag,
Placed into a sleek black Jag,
To take that final ride.
I see them all arrive by plane,
Unload the coffins in the rain,
Families wait to see again,
A husband, brother, son.
Young women also leave that place,
In body bags. Their lovely face,
No longer brighten up our race,
Their families cry as one.
Line the route, three deep the crowd,
Sisters, brothers weep out loud,
Fathers silent, brave heads bowed,
To hearse toss flowers wild.
Young, short lives, they tried their best,
To make dad proud, they flew the nest.
Roses clutched to mothers breast,
For her hero child.
We hear our families’ mournful cries,
Now watching from our paradise,
Make politicians realise,
No war is ever won.
My kin I’ll never see again,
Sorry, I was such a pain,
I loved you all.....that thought retain.
Love you mum........I’m gone.
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You write with convincing knowledge and personal experience...
War has and always will be horrific...
When will this someone start listening and thinking of non violent alternatives to solve difficult situations....?
Diana....
I am watching a series called, Under Fire, with actual footage taken in a compound in a valley in Afghanistan. The place is very well provisioned and protected, but constantly under attack from the nearby mountains. It makes me wonder why we would invest so much money to build a place like that where the occupants are playing Russian roulette every time they step into the open for a breath of fresh air. And, some times when a rocket hits, there is no place safe there at all.
Your poem tells us that war is hell. When are our world leaders going to learn that.
Ron
Michael D.