Another remembrance day poem for my father

Comrades

Joe and Bill trained together, learned to cut
bullets from shallow wounds, and how to strap
bruised ribs up. After that there was a gap
of several months, and then the Army put

them both in Egypt. They fought that campaign –
retreated then advanced across the sands.
Bill was the better shot; and Joseph’s hands
did neater stitches. One night in the rain

just outside Rome – they’d got just one day’s leave
and never made it into town. A priest
had made them serve High Mass five times, at least.
In the truck back to camp, you might believe

Bill dozing, till he slumped. Joe caught him, dead
A German sniper shot Bill in the head.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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