Noel Hill

 

 

            March you bastard march,

Make for moon of many a dead man,

Starch the collar with a month of grit,

Storm the O P Den.

            On battle ground fixed on foe

The soles of feet take strain, pain

The weary soldier’s brow.

 

(Tears release,

                        A cradle keeps,

The chin strap removed gives room

To breathe).

            Breathe in!

 

            Chasing bullets be no more –

Breathe in, keep calm the human being

Within - be warned,  

Incensed by war - this hell,

Breathe in!

For this insanity remembered, be

The Publics peace.

           

 

ONE,

TWO,

THREE,

 FOUR!

Stagger the patrol,

Give space to save from claymores grin

Trip the golden line, freeze

In para-ilumination lit

Run through the ambush –

Send the gun group right,

Put down effective enemy fire,

Take the firefight,

 

GROUP

RANGE

INDICATION

TARGET – GRIT,

CLEAR

LOUD

AS AN ORDER

PAUSES – CLAP!

            Throw some smoke

Mag on mag off..............

            Breathe in!

 

 

Follow it home,

Follow the moon,

Take a high perch,

This new found FEBA

            Slow down,

            Take rest ole man!

            Breathe in.

 

Light a fire by the cairn

Toast a candle’d  3am

            Take the heat the flask

Will bring, and weep the tears of

Freedom.

 

            Look down the dead ground,

See Heywood lit –

Pray for dreams of peaceful children,

Pray they never be alone,

Pray for quiet quartered battle kept -

            Breathe in!

 

Share no wreaths of battle-dom,

Sleep a silent quarrel, this

Quandary in a shell shocked mind

Breathe in,

            But never forget, as much

As hexed, the pride and price the

British veteran paid.

 

            Breathe!

 

 

Michael J Waite 22^nd February 2009 0135hrs