Doing the weekly supermarket shop,

He saw the cashier had just the one leg.

‘Landmine?’ he asked. ‘You’ve guessed it,’ she replied.

The man behind them pointed to his patch:

‘I was at the front. They shot out my eye.’

Still, mustn’t grumble. My friend and brother died.’

The queue went quiet; the scanner beeped on.

A woman entered, carrying a child,

Apparently deceased. ‘We’re on your side,’

She kept mumbling, in broken dialect.

‘She looks like a ghost,’ the cashier exclaimed.

‘I’ve seen her,’ the man said, ‘running, wild-eyed,

Dodging bullets to lay blooms at the grave.’

My subject gasped: ‘And I thought we were brave.’