My eyes begin to open,
My surroundings start to show.
I haven't landed where I was hoping,
This I already know.
My parachute caught in the branches,
My feet dangle off the ground.
I cut myself free from there,
Before my men and I are found.
I hit the floor with a thud,
I stumble to my feet.
My lungs are sore and dry,
From the smoke and blistering heat.
I can make out no real landmarks,
My team catches my sight.
The darkness shrouds my vision,
Mortar blasts my only light.
I walk sum 14 paces,
To where my squadron awaits.
An elite team of 4,
All my brothers, all my mates.
These are all my men,
Whom I was put in charge.
I'm proud to call them brothers,
They are proud to call me 'Sarge.'
They never doubt my orders,
Not a complaint, I can hear.
No matter the danger of the task,
Their eyes never reflect fear.
Private Jenkins keeps a diary,
Inside it, letters to his wife.
It's my task to deliver it,
Should someone take his life.
Corporal Reds a funny guy,
Who always makes us laugh.
He's also a great navigator,
He keeps us on our path.
Private Evans is a religious man,
In God he seems to trust.
But when it comes to combat,
His trust belongs to us.
Private Michaels is our medic,
A really skilful bloke.
He once safely operated,
With 2 nails, some rum and rope.
I decide to scout ahead,
While corporal Red points and directs.
Four shadowed figures approach,
Immediately identified as threats.
All I have is my rifle,
With only a few remaining rounds,
I know that I must take them out,
Quickly and without a sound.
The patrol is getting closer,
I can't afford to miss at all.
I look down the sight and pull the trigger
To the ground the first man falls.
The remaining 3 hit the ground,
Not knowing who was firing.
Supporting the force of the recoil,
My chest's sore and my arms tiring.
I pull the trigger 2 more times,
Now only 1 hostile left alone.
Still unclear as to my position,
He takes cover at where I'm prone.
I move my gun and I'm a dead man,
My knife the only decision.
Submerged in the thick mud,
Conceals me from his vision.
I joined the ranks of this army,
The snipers role, I filled.
So that I don't have to see the eyes,
Of the man that I had killed.
The remaining hostile collapses on me.
His blood warmer than the mud.
Private Jenkins saved me from the deed,
I did not have to spill his blood.
But not once did I panic,
Nor did I shed a tear.
Not once did I show any sign,
Of guilt or of fear.
Corporal Red raids the bodies,
.And still manages to crack a joke
'Bloody Germans good for something, '
As he commandeers their smokes.
A mortar hits our position,
I'm deafened by the crash.
The smoke invades my lungs,
And I'm blinded by the flash.
There my men lay so still,
Michaels and Evans clearly dead.
Their fatal end was also shared,
By our navigator, corporal Red.
Jenkins is severely wounded,
He doesn't have much time.
He hands me his diary and letters,
They will pay for this crime.
I sit staring at my brothers faces,
Then I fall into a heap.
I can't give up, not now,
I have promises to keep.
If I was to give up,
Give up on my life.
Who would pass on all Red's jokes?
And the letters to Jenkins's wife?
Who would preach Evans word of God?
And who would tell the tale?
Of Michaels successful operation.
With rope, some rum and nails.
I cover their pain, masked faces,
Now turned a ghostly white.
Deep down, I know my brothers,
Want me, to stand and fight.
I tracked and killed enemy mortar teams,
And took out any officers of rank,
With every kill my morale grew,
Whilst the German's morale sank.
I fought on for 3 more years,
I was promoted past the rank of Sarge.
Before my officer handed me,
A note for honourable discharge.
I received a medal for my service,
But their were no medals for the dead.
So hears to Private Jenkins,
Michaels, Evans and Red.
Now I am just a name,
On a tombstone,3 feet tall.
My comrades bodies never made it home,
They're but names upon a wall.
Brothers in arms we once were,
Into battle we were lead.
Pray, don't forget our legacy,
Please don't forget the dead.