Colin F. Jones


What is a medal, a combat badge to me;
A reminder of the uniform I wore
Or is it something that won’t set me free
From a past, non-existent anymore?
Millions of men have faced a foe in battle.
Braver men than I fought to the death.
Some still hear the bloodied sabres rattle;
Some still have cordite on their rasping breath.
There is but one badge pinned to my old coat
That tells you that I fought for peace in war.
A dullish brown and almost so remote
That few do think about it any more:
For now my medals are the words I write
To help tomorrow’s soldiers do it right