The Battlefield
Posted: Thu Dec 13, 2012 4:50 pm
The Battlefield
Stephen Whiteside 13.12.2012
They left me when the time came for retreat.
I heard the sergeant roar, the kettles beat.
I dug beneath a corpse and acted dead.
My leg was broke, and I, of course, dead meat.
The muddy field was stained with patches red,
And shrieking soldiers tumbled overhead.
Who knows how long I lay there in the dirt?
The corpse took slugs, but then, you cannot hurt
The dead. I was so grateful for this wall
Of skin and bones and muscles, quite inert.
Yes, now it seems a prospect to appall,
But I was quite detached, then, from it all.
So keen, of course, the instinct to survive,
The body and the mind in overdrive.
I can't imagine what I'd not have done
To somehow keep my spirit's flame alive.
I never had a chance to turn and run.
It's very straight, the barrel of a gun.
So when, at last, the sunset turned blood red,
My world, from end to end, was filled with dead.
Then star-light twinkled in the sky above.
I heard a whispered voice, a gentle tread;
A bended knee, a pannikin, a shove
Into my mouth - an act, almost, of love.
Then, as my veins surged once again with life,
I thought of home, of village, kids and wife;
A feeling like a red hot poker's jab
Reminded me I still was deep in strife.
Yet still, I glimpsed sweet life, and made a grab.
The cost? I'd let the devil take the tab.
But if I'd known back then what I know now
I'm not sure I'd have faced the dreadful row
That loomed between my body and my brain.
Each movement brought a bellow like a cow.
Till then I'd not known anything of pain.
I don't think I would do it all again.
So now I face the world with stick and stump.
My grandkids say I'm just a grouch, a grump.
I'd like to say I'm placid and content.
In truth I'm just a cussed, useless lump.
My aged, twisted body's wracked and bent,
And as for life? I don't know where it went...
Stephen Whiteside 13.12.2012
They left me when the time came for retreat.
I heard the sergeant roar, the kettles beat.
I dug beneath a corpse and acted dead.
My leg was broke, and I, of course, dead meat.
The muddy field was stained with patches red,
And shrieking soldiers tumbled overhead.
Who knows how long I lay there in the dirt?
The corpse took slugs, but then, you cannot hurt
The dead. I was so grateful for this wall
Of skin and bones and muscles, quite inert.
Yes, now it seems a prospect to appall,
But I was quite detached, then, from it all.
So keen, of course, the instinct to survive,
The body and the mind in overdrive.
I can't imagine what I'd not have done
To somehow keep my spirit's flame alive.
I never had a chance to turn and run.
It's very straight, the barrel of a gun.
So when, at last, the sunset turned blood red,
My world, from end to end, was filled with dead.
Then star-light twinkled in the sky above.
I heard a whispered voice, a gentle tread;
A bended knee, a pannikin, a shove
Into my mouth - an act, almost, of love.
Then, as my veins surged once again with life,
I thought of home, of village, kids and wife;
A feeling like a red hot poker's jab
Reminded me I still was deep in strife.
Yet still, I glimpsed sweet life, and made a grab.
The cost? I'd let the devil take the tab.
But if I'd known back then what I know now
I'm not sure I'd have faced the dreadful row
That loomed between my body and my brain.
Each movement brought a bellow like a cow.
Till then I'd not known anything of pain.
I don't think I would do it all again.
So now I face the world with stick and stump.
My grandkids say I'm just a grouch, a grump.
I'd like to say I'm placid and content.
In truth I'm just a cussed, useless lump.
My aged, twisted body's wracked and bent,
And as for life? I don't know where it went...