by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
A jagged spear of lightning splits the pre dawn sky. as half a hundred Englishmen prepare themselves to die, the instant flash of natures light revealed a fearsome sight, of a thousand native warriors that had gathered for the fight. An early morning “stand...
by Len Payne | Apr 7, 2009 | Poetry
Arnhem and Oosterbeek was where the Para’s bled, They fought outnumbered and outgunned amid their mounting dead, Even German generals admired their tenacious stand, As they stood and died together in a strange and war torn land. Bloodied and battered they carried on...
by Len Payne | Apr 7, 2009 | Poetry
He is called a Common Soldier, he comes from many lands, He fights in steaming jungles, he dies in desert sands, He sweats upon the drill square, he fears the sergeants eye, He is the first to march away, among the first to die. He cares not for daunting odds, nor...
by Len Payne | Apr 7, 2009 | Poetry
Canopies of silk float from darkened sky, Dropping on to targets, where hidden dangers lie, The ground rushes up to meet you to halt your swift decent, As you prepare yourself for impact, breath held, and knees bent. All at once you’re on the ground, you execute a...
by Len Payne | Apr 6, 2009 | Poetry
The bugle calls us to attend What must be done before days end, In ranks we form in ordered stance, Until the bugle sounds advance. Gone now are jokes and carefree banter The bugle calls for us to canter, From the canter now the charge The flashing guns now looming...
by Len Payne | Apr 6, 2009 | Poetry
Gathered in a training room, May of fifty-one, Attempting to grasp the workings of the light machine gun. The instructor looked exasperated at our lack of ken, As he sighed, and tried one more time, to impart the workings of the Bren. There are, he said, five main...
