Yob Soldier

[cursuswalker]

In a gutter
On a beach

lies a soldier.
lies a yob.

Passed out drunk,
Guts out, dead,

in a pool of his own blood.
in a pool of his own vomit.

In one hand a bottle.
In one hand a rifle.

Left by an overstretched Medic
Approached by an overstretched Paramedic,

all bright green jumpsuit and blonde pony-tail.
in bloody serge with terror for eyes.

Urine stains his trousers
Urine stains his trousers

and his mates have left him,
and his companions had to leave him

for dead as they staggered
for why should they bother?

As it was his own fault
as it was his bad luck

and they had orders to follow.
and there wasn’t much drinking-time left.

To get past the bouncers
To get past the wire

they had to leave their comrade.
they had to leave the sad git.

“Let’s get slaughtered!”
“This is a slaughter!”

one of them screams.
one of them yells.

And there he sprawls,
And there he lies,

grown cold,
growing colder,

his whole life ahead of him.
his whole life behind him.

Will he be remembered
Will he remember

in the morning?
in years to come?

Great Grandfather,
Great Grandson,

now bored by dusty albums,
now smiling only in dusty albums,

glanced only
never imagined

by one who had to leave a young family.
at Christmas.

0800 Tuesday morning
One o’clock Sunday morning

6th June 2004.
6th June 1944.

This is the price of War.
Is this the price of Peace?

[Megli]

Dark, powerful. What provoked it, Cursuswalker? Lot of disgust and bitterness behind it too (and quite right)...have you been a soldier yourself? It's also very rhythmic and pounding. Thanks for sharing!
M

[cursuswalker]

Dark, powerful. What provoked it, Cursuswalker? Lot of disgust and bitterness behind it too (and quite right)...have you been a soldier yourself? It's also very rhythmic and pounding. Thanks for sharing!
M

Fair questions. Firstly, no I am not a soldier and have never aspired to be one.

In 2004, on the 60th anniversary of D-Day, I spent all day indoors having an apallingly lazy day marking essays and watching a succession of documentaries on the horrors of that day. After hours of this I felt totally immersed in what the soldiers had gone through....or at least as much as I could be while sitting on my comfortable sofa in my nice warm house.

The last programme I watched was about the modern binge drinking culture. I remember seeing an image of a passed-out drunk young man lying on a pavement, and immediately was grabbed by the similarity between his body's position and those of dead soldiers on the beaches at Normandy.

It got me thinking...could he have been one of those soldiers if he had happened to be born then? And what is better: to have him passed-out drunk like that, utterly unappreciative of the sacrifices others made in order for him to have the decadent lifestyle he is able to enjoy, or to have him brave, tough, self-sacrificing and dead?

I just remember feeling so angry at how little we can value our freedoms and what others had to do in order to ensure we kept/won them.

I wrote the poem, in one draft, before going to bed that night.

[cursuswalker]

I don't know why, but some really good replies seem to have disappeared from this thread, including some from veterans.

[katie bridgewater]

Nice one Cursus - I love this poem, especially when you perform it live. In fact, I was talking only yesterday to Sue about Yob Soldier so I was surprised and very glad to get to read it when I got up this monrning. Cursus for Laureate!
Put me down for a copy of your book when you publish'please!

[cursuswalker]

Nice one Cursus - I love this poem, especially when you perform it live. In fact, I was talking only yesterday to Sue about Yob Soldier so I was surprised and very glad to get to read it when I got up this monrning. Cursus for Laureate!
Put me down for a copy of your book when you publish'please!

Will do!