| War and History Non-Fiction posted May 3, 2019 | Chapters: |
...3 4 -5- 6... 
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A fledgling soldier's first battle
A chapter in the book RESIDUE OF WAR
The Fledgling
by Gypsymooncat
In Their Memory Contest Winner
The dogs of war are out for blood in search of easy prey.
In the trench a fledgling soldier wills his fear away.
The looming threat of death embeds a knife of terror deep
within this frightened soldier's heart; he's trying not to weep.
A second's thought of his dear mother flits across his mind --
her peaceful, loving ways a distant dream too far behind.
Will he make it home or even make it through this day?
Without an answer or a choice, he drives those thoughts away.
They're closer now, he hears them crunching stone beneath their boots.
The fledgling takes position, cocks his weapon, poised to shoot.
Stench of danger permeates, his nostrils widely flare,
like his reddened eyes with drying tears no one will share.
Battle cries are deafening, his foe comes into sight!
A pair of eyes materialise before him, wide in fright.
Too close to free a bullet so he draws a vicious knife;
a second to decide who gets a second chance at life.
Screaming he deploys the blade into another heart,
piercing skin and bone all sense of reason blown apart.
What choice could he make except to kill or else be killed?
Even though it means the blood of innocents is spilled.
He kneels beside the body of his fallen enemy;
gently closes eyelids, signs the cross, but doesn't see,
a bayonet, so stealthy, from behind now makes its mark,
he's plunging downward, senses fading, all is growing dark.
There, beside his victim, lifeblood soaking hardened land,
he reaches out for absolution from a dying hand.
Those still fighting do not see this joining of each son,
who fought in life as enemies, in death becoming one.
-00-
Miles across the ocean, washed in silver by the moon,
a grieving mother sits beside the window of his room.
Against her breast, she holds a photograph of him at three,
and from this day, to her, that is the age he'll always be.
The dogs of war are out for blood in search of easy prey.
In the trench a fledgling soldier wills his fear away.
The looming threat of death embeds a knife of terror deep
within this frightened soldier's heart; he's trying not to weep.
A second's thought of his dear mother flits across his mind --
her peaceful, loving ways a distant dream too far behind.
Will he make it home or even make it through this day?
Without an answer or a choice, he drives those thoughts away.
They're closer now, he hears them crunching stone beneath their boots.
The fledgling takes position, cocks his weapon, poised to shoot.
Stench of danger permeates, his nostrils widely flare,
like his reddened eyes with drying tears no one will share.
Battle cries are deafening, his foe comes into sight!
A pair of eyes materialise before him, wide in fright.
Too close to free a bullet so he draws a vicious knife;
a second to decide who gets a second chance at life.
Screaming he deploys the blade into another heart,
piercing skin and bone all sense of reason blown apart.
What choice could he make except to kill or else be killed?
Even though it means the blood of innocents is spilled.
He kneels beside the body of his fallen enemy;
gently closes eyelids, signs the cross, but doesn't see,
a bayonet, so stealthy, from behind now makes its mark,
he's plunging downward, senses fading, all is growing dark.
There, beside his victim, lifeblood soaking hardened land,
he reaches out for absolution from a dying hand.
Those still fighting do not see this joining of each son,
who fought in life as enemies, in death becoming one.
-00-
Miles across the ocean, washed in silver by the moon,
a grieving mother sits beside the window of his room.
Against her breast, she holds a photograph of him at three,
and from this day, to her, that is the age he'll always be.
|
Writing Prompt Write a poem, any type, about the members of the military present and past. |
In Their Memory Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
In this poem, I have tried to bring across the absolute terror young soldiers felt when the enemy was upon them. Our memories are that of the hero. Yes, they were heroes, all of them. But they were just as afraid as a child on his first day of school.
Let's remember not only the sacrifices members of the military have made, but also honour their humanness, and how they overcame such abject fear to do what their country, and each battle, asked of them.
Picture courtesy of Conversation Films, Google Images
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Let's remember not only the sacrifices members of the military have made, but also honour their humanness, and how they overcame such abject fear to do what their country, and each battle, asked of them.
Picture courtesy of Conversation Films, Google Images
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