It was early afternoon when they bounced us on the track,

And there wasn’t any cover to be had.

But, they didn’t have high ground, so it wasn’t all that bad

And I found a little shell hole built for two.

The bloke already in it had been there half a week,

His head was on the ground beside his feet.

His grin was pretty ghastly and his neck looked really nasty

And the rats had been right busy at the meat.

So I rolled myself a spliff, just to take away the whiff,

I sucked a little hit and had a think.

I knew we were in trouble, they’d hit us with a double,

One round up in front and one behind.

But, enough of us were left for them to think it best

Just to sit it out and mortar us all day.

And when they’d had enough, they’d just gather up their stuff,

Piss off home and we’d be on our way.

Then I heard somebody running and a voice yelled out, “I’m coming!”

And some silly bugger jumped on top of me.

That really got my goat, so I grabbed him by the throat

And nearly sliced his head off there and then.

He screamed, “Sweet Christ, it’s me!” his voice muffled by my knee.

And I recognised the uniform as ours.

I flipped him on his back, and I saw that it was Mac,

A replacement for a kid we lost last week.

We sat and had a chat and we talked of this and that,

I’m buggered if I’m fighting without tea.

The mortars kept on thumping and the rounds just went on dumping,

Like footsteps of the devil out at play

They would keep it up all day in a desultory way

Then slip away when night began to fall.

His eyes were kind of wild, he was only just a child

And I wondered if they’d got him on half pay.

He crossed himself for luck, then grinned and lit one up.

And a splinter ripped his guts out.

He grabbed himself  in shock and moaned, “Oh, Jesus! Oh Mummy! I’m fucked!”

I thought, “You’re not wrong there, Kid”.

There wasn’t much to say, he wouldn’t last the day,

He’d never see the sun come up again.

He sat where he’d been hit in blood and muck and shit

And together we watched him slip away.

The mess began to stink and I couldn’t help but think

About the colours that were sprawled across his lap.

You expect a lot of claret, but not an artist’s friggin’ palette

With blue and yellow, green and brown and grey.

Pale and very small, he lay hunched against the wall,

While I just sat there, stupid, big and dumb.

His mind began to slip, blood dribbled down his lip.

I knew that he was longing for his mum.

I helped take off his pack and thought “well, I’ll have that”.

Then I cuddled him and told him he was brave.

I thought about his mum and I hoped she wouldn’t mind

her son’s last thought was she could use a shave.

I kissed him on the forehead and stroked him on the cheek

I notice that his boots were new and neat.

I wondered if they’d fit me, it seemed to be a pity,

he wouldn’t want to let them go to waste.

They looked to me like nines or near enough to mine

But to ask him would have been in such poor taste.

The pain was getting grim, snot dripping from his chin

I knew he couldn’t take it any more.

I reached down for my knife and I let him out of life,

I stuck it in his neck beneath his ear.

You could tell by his eyes it was a bit of a surprise

But then his day had all been bloody queer.

He closed his eyes and slept, and, bugger me, I wept

And I kissed him like his mummy would have done

As she tucked him up in bed and stroked his curly head

So I whispered one last time “night night, son”.

I’ve killed before and I’ll do some more It’s part of the way I’m made.

Not for hate or things like that, it’s just the soldier’s trade.

Maybe I’ll live, then sometime I’ll die and probably roast in Hell.

But, this one I did in love.