A SOLDIER REMEMBERS...

Today I stopped and gazed
At the War Memorial,
A huge monument
Commemorating the war dead
And I remembered...
I remember
When they asked for volunteers
In 1943 and my son
And his Buddy Went--
So eager, so young, so full of life,
And Ann cried.
And I remember
The unrestful time in 1913
When we listened to events
Taking place in Europe,
And then word flashed across the world --
WAR!
I went overseas after training
With hundred of others,
And Ann, my war-bride, cried,
I can hear the rat-tat-tat
Of the machine guns blazing death,
I can see the long lines of
Zigzag trenches, foxholes,
The dugouts, used for supplies,
No man's land, forbidding and deadly,
The flash of silver
Of the bayonets in hand to hand
Encounters
I can hear the boom of the huge steel tanks
With their rapid fire guns
Spitting sure death;
The roar of distant gunfire,
The sudden explosion of
Hidden mines -- Death!
I remember cutting and crawling
Through and stumbling over
Miles of tangled barbed wire
I can smell the incredible stench.
I can see the blood,
The open gaping wounds,
The guts of brave men
Scattered over the field--
Man-made, unmarked graves,
I can hear the cries of the wounded.
The dying, piteously pleading begging--
I remember
The deadly poison gas,
Throwing hand grenades, then running;
I can feel the pain of
Shrapnel in my leg,
I remember limping;
A bloody bandage,
The hospital--the heaven-sent nurses;
I can smell the
Blood mixed with sweat--
The sickness, the disease;
I remember the cold, the snow,
The rain, the mud, the heat,
The bugs and flies, the insects,
I remember the bitterness,
The weariness, tension, hurt, the fear,
The building up of hate inside,
The grimness as you faced the
Cold stark reality of DEATH!
But I came back--
And Ann cried--
And I met my young son.
Then came 1939
And I remember hearing and
Reading about
The Japs and Pearl Harbour
Hitler, Mussolini, Rommel,
The Blitzkrieg
The concentration camps,
I remember his letters;
"I hate it, it's bloody, men dying all over."
"I killed my first man. I didn't want to,
but I guess I had to."
"Mom, I met a nice girl."
"You'll like her."
"All we've been doing for two years
is digging trenches, move on,
kill, kill, kill."
"I'm sick of bloodshed, the noise, the lice, why, why?"
We could not answer that either son.
I remember
The forced gaiety,
The hidden fear as we
Waited; the unspoken worry,
The long, long days, weeks,
Months as letters stopped
I remember praying, praying,
Listening to the radio,
Waiting, reading casualty lists,
Always praying, hopping,
Waiting for news, praying...
And I remember
The telegram that came
Just before the end
Of the war--
"Regret to inform you, your son, Jim Davis, killed in action..."
And Ann cried
And I cried
And today I remember
And I feel the tears...

"Moonbearm" HC"			
Wadena, Sask.