Not a Veteran
NOT A VETERAN
I’m not an Army veteran, it’s a cap that doesn’t fit.
I’m a guy that wore the green yes, but I don’t feel I did my bit.
I’ve never faced the enemy, stared down the barrel of a gun.
Neither firing nor receiving, truth is I’d sooner run!
I never sat in armoured vehicles, not a tank or APC.
Gone on patrol down south Armagh or engaged with LMG.
I played at being soldiers, did long runs and BFTs.
Had Naafi breaks and Naafi breaks, and Naafi breaks and tea.
I did my tours of duty, got the medals and the tan.
But did I really earn them? I’m not sure that I’m that man.
Time’s gone by, I’m civvy now and I sometimes miss the craic,
Of the life I left behind that day, and the lads that had my back.
I go to some reunions, and to the Army/Navy game.
But keeping touch with times gone past, has become a wee bit lame.
I stay in London often, in a club called Union Jack.
I see the war-torn veterans; it wears heavy on their backs.
They stand proud in all their colours, in their regimental suits.
Limbs replaced with metal; prosthetics stuffed in boots.
They, to me are veterans, the ones that fought for real.
They are men that live in honour, with the scars that never heal.
The scars that maybe we don’t see, with the never-ending stare.
That says, just like I wasn’t.........
........they know that they were there!
Copyright © John Mulqueen | Year Posted 2023
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