Frontline

FRONTLINE

He went off a year ago

My little boy went away

He said he would be back

Back, safe and sound

He went off with a helmet

And a gun slung o’er his shoulder.

He was posted to the frontline

Closest to the enemy

Crouching in shallow ditches

While the shells flew overhead

‘Just a broken arm, ma

Nothing more’, he says

He fought for a week or two

Letters come each day

He says he’s healing up now

Better every day

Not much food and dirty clothes

But he’ll be home soon.

He goes out to the frontline

Rubbing sleep from his eyes

He lies down in the trenches

As the clouds grow overhead

An explosion, a scream

It’s his friend

Up now, slowly falling

He scrambles to his feet

Catches him as he falls

Heart beating, pulse is slow

Call the stretcher, lay him out

Scramble across the field

Whizzes and bangs all ‘round us

I get a knock at the door.

It’s the postman handing me a letter.

No, not a letter. It’s yellow.

It’s a telegram. My heart is beating.

As I unfold the paper my hands are shaking

And I read the three words

I have feared for so long

“Killed in Action.”