entry picture

White Flags Over Stanley. Falklands Five.


We sat and cleaned,

We sat and polished,

We sat and oiled,

We sat and checked

The action.

We sat and checked

Our mags.

We counted spare mags,

Filled them with caress.

We counted grenades.

We looked to the horizon.

We looked for the airport.

Changed our socks.


We were cold,

We were battered

And we were soaked.

Thank god there’s

Always a joker.

The great artiste

One in every room.

We huddled together

Mingled warmth

And shit rations.


And we were angry.

Many had surrendered 

themselves into early graves.


The airport was next.

After the lofty heights.

They were dug in.

The SAS reconnoitred.

Recce squad had reconnoitred.

Moters were pointed.

Artillery was zeroed.

We ate shit rations.

We drank tea.

We joked a bit

We didn’t discuss


I thought of my girl.

Then forgot her

And thought about



The Colonel


By his officers

His maps

His radios

And a cup of tea.

Pointed and spoke

Machine guns here

20mm canon there.

Slit trenches


And men ready

To kill.

Us them.

Them us.

But we had the high ground.

We had the training.

Ready to move




Stanley surrounded.

Airport surrounded 

Bombed by harriers

And Vulcans.

Then the colonel

Gathered everyone.

They had abandoned

The airport,

Run to Stanley.


Scared and seeking


From the storm.

The colonel


“There are white flags over Stanley”

And that was that.


But there’ll always be more

I turned twenty 

In that cold place

And my kill count was


And that’s not an 

easy to close door.


◄ Face Down. Falklands Four.

There's danger near Falklands Six ►


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