It’s not like I’ve not done it before,
This isn’t to be my first taste of war,
Been collecting medals since before I could vote,
Many sandbag stories from which to quote.

I tell everyone it’s just like Iraq,
And from there I’ve always come back,
But this time it’s different, all over the news,
Every Journo expressing their varying views.

Maybe it’s the stories of wounded and dead,
That fills my heart with apprehension and dread,
A feeling I have that’s hard to explain,
I’ve been around too long to try and complain.

I know I’ll be ok, I know I’ll survive,
I know once I’m back I’ll soon realise,
These feelings I had weren’t justified,
That I really should of just kept them inside.

So how can I admit I’m nervous.