He Was the Brave
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Sat in his chair, the tv still on
He’s not changed the channel for so very long
The message on screen says a shut down’s ensuing
But press any button to carry on viewing
The remote, untouched on the arm of the chair
The TV shuts down like there’s nobody there
Old Albert is sat with his chin on his chest
The room is still cold but at last he’s at rest
Time was when milk would build up by the door
But nobody delivers milk any more
Mail might protrude from the mailbox at night
But no bills are due and so no-one will write
And as time goes by no-one wonders why
Nothing’s been seen of that old army guy
Everyone knows that everyone dies
But no-one does nothing… until there are flies
It falls to a man in a blue paper suit
And a copper equipped with a size ten boot
To let themselves in and survey the scene
Of a house full of flies but otherwise clean
Albert, to no-one’s surprise is sat there
It’s patently clear that he’s beyond a care
A man at the door says if it’s up to you
And this house is vacant put me in the queue
The cop shuts the door in the intruder’s face
And mutters, ‘society, no sense of place’
How does a man die completely alone
How can a man be completely unknown
Upstairs the blue suited man finds the bed
A jacket with medals laid out and he said
Not really the job of a pathologist
But I think he wants to be buried in this
The note that is still held in one withered hand
Unfolded and read just as Albert had planned
I’m sorry it said that I’ve tarnished your day
And you were the one who would find me this way
Please be so kind as to think well of me
And know I was not always this that you see
I fought when the world faced a new tyranny
I fought for our freedom and our liberty
I fought for my king but from what I can see
I fought for a land that would not fight for me
I’m happy to go now for I’ve been bereft
That, of all my comrades, there’s only me left
I go to my God, I won’t fret and won’t cry
And I’ll meet my soldier friends up in the sky
**
Word was sent out in the national media
Searches on Google and on Wikipedia
But no wartime comrade was anywhere found
To stand and salute or to fire a round
But the manager of an East End snooker hall
Seeing the news, gave his father a call
**
Six pallbearers, great grandsons of men
Who Albert had saved with a half empty sten
Those men who, once safe, watched him go in for more
And who watched him fall, shot, to the shell strewn floor
Those wounded who’d watched as he crawled his way back
Dragging a man by his rifle strap
The pallbearer’s fathers and their fathers too
There for a hero that none of them knew
There to salute without further ado
A stranger whose name each one of them knew
Seven the number of uniformed men
Who step up to each fire three shots and then
The last post plays out over old Albert’s grave
Where a stone would soon stand saying… ‘He was the brave’
Written 8 November 2021
Entered in: War Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2021
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