We scanned the desert -a mirage appears…

‘Here it comes, lad, man your gun!
A warning shot ‘ill stop the advance
Let’s give the enemy a fighting chance.’
One shot, then two, and on it comes.
The donkey shoots us both a glance
Then trots towards us with a prance…
The Sarge’s lips would tremble now
Sweat form like beads upon his brow.
‘There’s only one thing to be done-
You’ll have to shoot the donkey, son.’
Sarge patted my shoulder then turned away.
And one poor donkey hit the hay…
In that parched and barren land
We buried the donkey in the sand.
His eyes puffed up and looking red
A tear, or two, The Sarge then shed.

‘I would have spared it if I could
We did our duty as you should…’