What bends the squaddy’s mind, that on return
Mates nightly sunder, as now, he in turn?
Perhaps it is munitions’ modern might
To shred, truncate, dismember, burn, or crush
That, set against the
Turns minds of finest fighting men to mush.
They serve him not who only sit and wait
Till mercenary survivor clicks the gate.
For though a fight is meat and drink to man
This meat is human chunks, with blood to taste.
He joined up with adventurer’s élan
Now stark incongruity must be faced.
This War on Terror was a bridge too far;
No foe with sandy boots will cross our bar.
But politicians, heedless of their gall
Send off these willing lads to man their ploy
And losing more than ever take the pall
Just War’s fragile integrity - destroy.