War Poetry
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Come come, submit some war poetry or meaningful lyrics.
My contribution:
Harvey Andrews, Soldier in a Station, 1979:In a station in the city a British soldier stood
This song was inspired by an incident in Belfast in 1971. Of course, poetic licence is exercised, but I think he captures the self-sarcrifice invovled perfectly.
Talking to the people there if the people would
Some just stared in hatred, and others turned in pain
And the lonely British soldier wished he was back home again
Come join the British Army! said the posters in his town
See the world and have your fun come serve before the Crown
The jobs were hard to come by and he could not face the dole
So he took his country's shilling and enlisted on the roll
For there was no fear of fighting, the Empire long was lost
Just ten years in the army getting paid for being bossed
Then leave a man experienced a man who's made the grade
A medal and a pension some mem'ries and a trade
Then came the call for Ireland as the call had come before
Another bloody chapter in an endless civil war
The priests they stood on both sides the priests they stood behind
Another fight in Jesus's name the blind against the blind
The soldier stood between them between the whistling stones
And then the broken bottles that led to broken bonmes
The petrol bombs that burnt his hands the nails that pierced his skin
And wished that he had stayed at home surrounded by his kin
The station filled with people the soldier soon was bored
But better in the station than where the people warred
The room filled up with mothers with daughters and with sons
Who stared with itchy fingers at the soldier and his gun
A yell of fear a screech of brakes the shattering of glass
The window of the station broke to let the package pass
A scream came from the mothers as they ran towards the door
Dragging their children crying from the bomb upon the floor
The soldier stood and could not move his gun he could not use
He knew the bomb had seconds and not minutes on the fuse
He could not run and pick it up and throw it in the street
There were far too many people there too many running feet
Take cover! yelled the soldier, Take cover for your lives
And the Irishmen threw down their young and stood before their wives
They turned towards the soldier their eyes alive with fear
For God's sake save our children or they'll end their short lives here
The soldier moved towards the bomb his stomach like a stone
Why was this his battle God why was he alone
He lay down on the package and he murmured one farewell
To those at home in England to those he loved so well
He saw the sights of summer felt the wind upon his brow
The young girls in the city parks how precious were they now
The soaring of the swallow the beauty of the swan
The music of the turning world so soon would it be gone
A muffled soft explosion and the room began to quake
The soldier blown across the floor his blood a crimson lake
There was no time to cry or shout there was no time to moan
And they turned their children's faces from the blood and from the bones
The crowd outside soon gathered and the ambulances came
To carry off the body of a pawn lost in the game
And the crowd they clapped and cheered and they sang their rebel song
One soldier less to interfere where he did not belong
And will the children growing up learn at their mothers' knees
The story of the soldier who bought their liberty
Who used his youthful body as a means towards an end
Who gave his life to those who called him murderer not friend25th May 1971:
Sergeant Michael G. Willets, 27, 3 Para
On the evening of the 25th May 1971 a terrorist entered the reception hall of Springfield Road Police station in Belfast. He carried a suitcase from which a smoking fuse protruded, dumping the case on the floor he fled out-side, inside the room were a man a woman and two children and several police officers. One of the police officers raised the alarm then began organising an evacuation of the hall through the reception office.
Sgt Willetts was on duty in the inner hall, on hearing the alarm he sent an NCO to the first floor to warn those above and hastened himself to the door towards which the police officer was thrusting those in the reception hall and office. He held the door open while all passed safely through and then stood in the doorway shielding those taking cover.
In the next moment the bomb exploded with terrible force. Sgt Willetts was mortally wounded. His duty did not require him to enter the threatened area. All those people who were approaching the door from the far side agreed that if they had had to check to open the door, They would have perished. Sgt Willetts waited, placing his body as a screen to shelter them.
By this act of bravery, he risked and lost his life for those of the adults and children.
Sgt Michael Willetts was awarded the George Cross (Posthumous) -
That is one brave soldier. And the poem is very emotional.
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Touching ain't it. If i was not the steely-eyed dealer of death that I am, I would certainly be moved.
Anyway, here's another version of the story:He was killed at Springfield Road RUC station by an IRA blast bomb thrown into the reception area. A car stopped outside the station and a man, described as dark haired and in his mid-20s, emerged with a suitcase which he hurled through the front door. Several civilians were sitting inside when the device was thrown. Among them were Patrick Gray, a 27-year-old electrician, his daughter Colette and their neighbour Mrs Elizabeth Cummings and her four-year-old son, Carl. In his book Bombs Have No Pity, Lieutenant-Colonel George Styles wrote: 'Immediately he saw the suitcase hit the floor, Sergeant Willets realised what was about to happen. He thrust the two children down into a corner and stood above them, shielding them as the 30lbs explosive in the suitcase went off. He was killed instantly but the children he'd protected escaped with their lives.
journalist Jack Holland give an account of the moments following the explosion. They write: 'Phoenix made his way to the entrance area, where he saw Sergeant Willets lying with the back of his head gaping open. A metal chunk from a locker hurled across the room by the force of the explosion had struck him. Local people had gathered outside and began to help clear the debris, offering what assistance they could. Ambulances began ferrying the injured to the nearby Royal Victoria Hospital. Lieutenant-Colonel (Peter) Chiswell was with Sergeant Willets, who was taken out on a door to the ambulance. A crowd of youths were waiting to greet them. They started to jeer and scream obscenities at the badly wounded soldiers. Said Chiswell, "My reaction was one of total disbelief that anyone could be so inhumane."
http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=28801