A Squaddie's Tale
The telephone’s shrill ringing
Jerked me from my sleep
To hear the voice break
Heard him start to weep.
I knew just how hard
That he’d been trying
To hold back the pain,
To stop himself from crying.
Broken and shattered
At just twenty four
He just couldn’t take it,
Had had enough of War.
Back at the Regiment,
In a state of despair,
He took the Waccy Baccy
Walk across the Drill Square
Not realising the consequences
Out in the world at large,
A mentally disturbed civvie
With a Dishonourable Discharge.
We found him early one morning
A combat hardened Veteran
Waiting there in ambush
Looking out for some Taliban.
The Veterans Brotherhood
Quickly took him in hand
For in all truth who were
More likely to understand
Than those who’ve been there,
Those who’ve talked the talk
And, each in their own way,
Have at least Walked the walk
Now he’s back in touch
Knows he’s not alone,
Knows at least there’s a voice
On the other end of the phone,
Knows a fellow veteran
Will always be there,
Knows they’ll try to understand,
And, non judgementally, they’ll care.
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