A Sandy Mound
by Ian Curtress
There’s a
rough hewn wooden cross to the East of
old Iraq
Beneath it a courageous Major who will
not be coming back
A soldier’s soldier who broke all
the standard rules
Made by those who had never seen the
sharp end
Dismissed us all as fools
With a chosen six devoted men with
courage in his mould
He formed a cell to destroy the rebels,
the numbers go untold
They never knew where we would strike, so
many to their cost
Their dreadful plans in disarray, so many
rebels lost
For three long years we fought off
fatigue and fear
losing brothers one by one
Till just me and the Major with the
campaign almost done
We had at last traced their leaders, no
need for second glance
Our most successful ambush, they didn’t
stand a chance
Then breaking cover the Major threw
himself on an hidden IED
Once again a life he saved, that life he
saved was me
Every night the recurring dream, haunts
me without fail
Six sad and lonely women surround me to
relate this tragic tale
If when peace I find and there’s a
place for me in heaven
I know six mates will be waiting to greet
their number seven. |
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