William H.A. Willbond MSM, CD
Awarded: August 24, 2007I hear the bugle call at reveille in the morn
Thoughts hearken back to Calgary’s Depot
Where young Infantry Riflemen soldiers were born
I hear a voice yelling out there on the square
That drill voice it was harsh and extremely loud!
Korean War veteran Merv Sneddon, my friend,
Told me to hold my head up proud
Or I’d get unwanted wrathful attention
From our CSM[•] perfectionist, the Rod Ken McLeod
I don’t know whether it’s a dream in sleep
Or is it daydream thoughts that I sometimes weep?
For my long dead buddy Dighton Vaughn Roussel
Rosie had shared with me a guardroom CB[•] cell
He was killed in a bar in Amsterdam on leave
Leaving Cyril[•] and big Mack[•] and me to grieve
They lowered Rosie’s coffin down into German Ground
The Padre said prayers and the wets drank a round!
As I get older I think back o’er that young soldier’s life
To those years before I met and married my wife
I lived each day to the sound of the duty bugler’s call
Until he sounded retreat in front of the hall
The drill and duties course, LCpl[•] – promotion
A fight with a meathead[•], stripes lost to demotion
Fourteen and twenty five[•] and two weeks of pack drill
Moving 140 to the minute to the BOS’s[•] will
It must be a dream because I’m not really awake
I must put on the coffee, jump up, take a break,
Put aside thoughts of Buddy Rosie[•] and trips back through the years
What’s that on my cheek? Those can’t be real tears?
©Copyright August 18, 2007 by William H.A. Willbond, MSM, CD