A SALUTE TO HEROES
The unknown warrior can not write what is written in his heart when all about him shell bursts bombard his brain and causes the body and nerves to tingle and start when life becomes tedious with strain.
Onward march every stride with tufts of grass and mud the heavy load he carries is survival for life when the buzzing of bullets hit their targets and there is spilt blood and what of war a useless farce that’s rife.
Our soldier dives onto the slushy ground and screams that stifle and places bullets into breech and steadily takes aim and a noise from underfoot twigs snap as he squeezes the trigger of his rifle and surely his enemy falls and life fails his character slain
The enemy, who is the enemy, theirs’ or ours, for they all count and what of the bullet that might come your way and whoever stands in mud-filled holes for hours and hours, may be prepared to fight another day.
Two whistle blows hardly heard above the noise of battle and heroes all who stand and fight although one does not wish to hear a death rattle or even turn around and take flight.
Out of the hole he crawls, advancing in no man’s land, a silence falls like a thunderous roar and is God going to give him a helping hand or will he go to hell or to heaven soar.
He safely reaches the next hole and lands feet first and steady and one more blast on whistle blow means stay so rest my lad for tomorrow you must be ready for King and Country and this time God may help you on your way.
Gregory Gower © 16th November 2004.
Dedicated to the fallen heroes of World War 1
