Mark Campbell

THE BEAST

The warm breeze fanned down on the great beast,
Which lay silent in its coat of sand
Cold steel made from the hands of man in sleepy towns for one goal
The goal of war
This castle of destruction slept
Then movement, the scrambling of the crew, tired disappearing into its gut
Switches flickering within
Suddenly the roar as it sprang to life
Poisoned smoke, black, pouring from its exhaust
Then its head turned and it lurched forward
Rumbling, crushing the sandy floor beneath
Leaving only a print of its former self as it left its lair
On the attack for its prey

Author’s Note: Written while on active duty during the first Gulf War

The Queen’s Royal Irish Hussars reach The Basra Road, 1991
The Queen’s Royal Irish Hussars reach The Basra Road, 1991