Colin F. Jones


Committed to the fray we stand in fear,
facing furious foe with frown and leer,
Sideways glancing for support and trust,
choking on the cordite and swirling dust.
Lanyards at full stretch in nervous hands
that shake while waiting for the next command
That is lost in the sound of the blasting guns,
That hurl shattered metal over the sandbagged bunds.
A swishing sound as metal arrows fly,
and shattered ranks of soldiers fall and die,
Metal fragments scatter far and wide,
Jagged shrapnel red hot with trees collide
And all the bodies that are writhing there outside
Die as the sad achievements of our pride.