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Just A Lad
by
Gary Westwood
Just a lad, that’s all he was
Like so many more,
Signed up, trained, transported,
Off to fight the war.
The war to end all wars they said
“We’ll sort the buggers out”.
The Kaiser’s army’s good as dead,
They haven’t any clout.
When he marched off to the front,
He hadn’t got a clue
Of all the pain and suffering
He’d be going through.
The mud so thick, the rotten stench,
Unburied dead that littered
Each and every trench.
“Head down, old son,
don’t stand up there,
you’ll cop a blighty one!”
Live like a rat of food deprived,
Of water warmth and love
The Hun was sending presents,
Hot shrapnel from above.
Sporadic sniper fire,
Wet, cold, sleepless nights
No man’s land often lit
By eerie Very lights.
“Tomorrow, lads, the push is on,
we’re going o’er the top”.
Sleep soundly, son,
Dream of home and Dad and Mum.
No sleep was had,
The morning dawned
“There’s gas about, be warned!”
Then with bayonet fixed,
Rifle cleaned and ready,
Emotions, rushing, mixed,
A date with destiny.
The barrage ceased, silence fell
Then the whistles blew
And he’s walking into Hell
Beneath the sky so blue.
With barbed wire, craters, gunfire,
The heavy mud of France,
The young lad, now a man,
Never had a chance.
Just ten yards was all he walked,
With tin hat, jaunty angled.
That’s when the shrapnel took him,
Rifle, hat and body, mangled.
Now he’s a name, carved neatly
On one more white headstone
Just a lad of many,
Who’s never going home.
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