Colin F. Jones


Do I now think as I did then all those many years ago,
When I was a young soldier raining shells upon the foe?
I recall I was paid more money to trundle off to war;
And after all, it was a chance to do what I was training for.
I don’t recall that the subject was ever about flags and nationhood;
They were words I did not hear; all that was understood.
All the ranting and the raving, the marching and the hype –
Well it was all introduced later along with lots of other tripe.
I went and did my duty, surely that was enough,
But no they keep on raving about a lot of other stuff.
At first I got to drinking, and then I headed for the hills,
As far away as I could get from the headaches and the pills.
But where can you run from people who want to keep the thing alive,
So I came back home to hide away and try to survive.

But no, it did not work ‘cause the war caught up to me.
No matter how I’ve tried, of the past I was not free.
Now the blokes from my regiment want to fight it all again,
but I do not want to renew the past; from it there is no gain.
They are good blokes, for sure they are, but I like being alone,
but that don’t mean a thing to them so they ring me on the phone.
I was older than most of them, and higher up in rank,
so they seem to think they owe me to thank
but we were all in it together doing what we were trained to do,
And in that doing together, a sense of camaraderie grew.