Stolen from a man I am proud to call a mate.

So you think you have forgotten??

"Now just you sit down, soldier", said the doctor unto me,
"look into your deepest thoughts, and tell me what you see."
"I'll tell you, sir" the soldier said, "of all the hell I've seen",
Of houses burning in the streets, and grass that once was green,
Of lines of dannet wire, that would not let them pass,
Of bricks and bottles flying, and clouds of C.S. gas.
Of a wounded comrade lying on a glass strewn Belfast Street,
Of a Marvel Milk tin nail bomb, exploding at his feet,
Of a petrol bomb that hit a man, and changed him to a pyre,
Of all the lads that stood around, but could not quench the fire."
"Ah well, my lad," the doctor said, "that's all just part of life,
Have two weeks leave, try to rest, enjoy time with your wife."


"Now just you sit down, my son" said the Padre in a word,
"Listen to your deepest thoughts, and tell me what you heard."
"I'll tell you sir," the soldier said, "of all the things I hear,
Of loud explosions in the air, and children's screams of fear.
Of breaking glass and crackling flames and rioter's obscene voice,
Of orders bellowed in the night to soldiers with no choice,
Of cheering Orange marchers, alive with so much fun,
Of the measured, deadly, thunder of the ancient Thompson gun.
Of the laughing, cheerful banter of the comrades who are dead,
Of the fading sobs of my best friend as I held his dying head."
"Ah well, my lad" the Padre said, "this all sounds rather odd,
I'm sure that things will be put right once we have prayed to god."


"Now just you sit down, Lance Corporal," said good old Colonel Beal,
"Lay your hands across your thoughts, and tell me how you feel."
"I'll tell you sir," the corporal said "exactly how I've felt,
I've told the others what has passed, and what I've seen, and smelt.
Of throwing up in bloody streets until my guts are sore,
Of seeing death and carnage 'til I cant take any more,
Of feeling so damned helpless when others take a chance,
Of feeling so embarrassed when my driver **** his pants.
Of feeling that I want to die like friends that went before,
Of feeling that I must join them at great Valhalla's Door."
"Ah well, my lad," the Colonel said "I'll tell you what to do,
Forget the past, just leave your gear, your soldiering days are through"