Why

Don’t call me a Hero. You weren’t even there When I got the wound That put me in this chair. I was doing my duty Patrolling disputed ground It was just random chance That I took a sniper’s round. You didn’t see me Moaning and crying Totally convince I was Bleeding out and dying. No, the Hero was my mate Who applied dressings that day And stayed there with me until The medics could take me away. Heroes don’t wake up screaming In the middle of the night Because the bloody flashbacks Have them convulsed with fright. It would be wonderful, if, Just for one special day, I was there as myself, Not as the Hero on display. Please don’t call me a Hero It’s such a status to live up to And when l let you down As I so often do I feel in despair At your so obvious surprise And the disappointment Reflected in your eyes Just once when they tell me How lucky I was not to die I wish I had the nerve To openly ask them why. So, don’t call me a Hero. All I did was survive, And I’m not quite so sure You can call this being alive. A while ago I was chatting with a friend about treatment of Forces Veterans. He said he could be a little more sympathetic if they weren’t always referred to as Heroes. I pointed out generally Veterans don’t refer to themselves like that - just people doing their jobs - but it’s third parties, many of which weren’t Veterans, out to raise funds for whatever reason. I met many fellow Veterans over the last 7 years working as a volunteer with a Veteran Support Organisation, quite a few of which I thought were Heroes, but none of them did.