Dead not Dishonoured

by | Nov 7, 2006 | Poetry | 0 comments

At four in the morning the shelling restarted,
Its shrieking and screaming, the only sound heard.
Stand to at five, advance at five thirty,
Knee deep in mud the Soldiers waited
To hear the whistle, the command to advance.

The young lad waited,head bowed, trembling.
Praying “Please, lets go,- get out of this noise”
Lips not moving, mind chanting – “Lets go, Lets go”
Not afraid to charge forward to meet his fate,
The mud, the noise,the waiting caused his trauma.

The enemy now returned the shelling,increasing the badlam,
The soldiers cursed and finished their smokes.
The young one now visibly shaking,not in control.
He dropped his rifle , turned and ran.

The regulation Court Martial just a formality.
The verdict “Guilty”, the sentence death.
Shellshock not mentioned, cowardice was.
The dishonoured young man to die at dawn!
His breakfast half a mug of rum,and five bullets to follow.


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