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Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One

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Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One


Ah’ Chris mate,

What a fate,

We’d laughed 

and cavorted

Before the fun.

I’d had sex

In Pompey

And lots of rum.


It’d take a lot

To make us run.

You in your engine room

Me in mine.

All seemed well

All seemed fine.

Your ship

Was knightly

Mine was grey.


As we both looked

Out on that misty day.

We’d just spoken

Just said g’day.

From hundreds of feet,

A way away.

We joked while

The lads in green

Sang a song.

Until along came

That fucking

Big bomb.


The land looked 

Miserable on that day.

But we didn’t care

We weren’t to stay.

Just say “so long”.

To the lads in green

And their boxes

of shit to feed the machine.

Then back to the atlantic

The raging sea.

How could we know?

How could we see?


The skyhawks came 

On the 8th of June

With 500 pounders

Strapped for doom.

I was safe 

and couldn’t see

In my hole  

Quick lads stop.


I never saw you again.

There wasn’t really

Much left to grieve

All they found 

Was your arm in a sleeve.

With a watch

From your girl.


WarAutobiographySir Galahad.

◄ Vomit City

Check the bolt Falklands Two. ►


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