PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Corporal Adams, had been shot in the shoulder. Dinger had done what he could, it would now depend, on how soon he could be casevaced, to see a proper medical officer. A lot of the wounded lay in the open, virtually, where they had fallen. We’d dressed monster, in most of the spare kit I’d been carrying in my Bergen. Unmoving, like the dead, dressed in their waterproof clothing , in an effort to keep them warm. Keep them alive. All around us, small battles raged.



Stuck in a fold in the ground, we were being denied the high ground above us. A complex line of trenches, with interlocking arcs, was holding us back. We looked for other options. On our right flank , B Coy was working it’s way, through a cemetery. They were pinned down slightly, unable to advance with any great speed.



I had sat, high on the side of Darwin hill, able to see, for literally miles. It would appear, my side, had not only forgot me, but the enemy also. Listening to the radio chatter, I decided to offer my 2 pence worth. Unfortunately, with no map, compass, or any real idea, where I was, my offer was declined. I didn’t blame them actually. WHAGs was not a recognised form, of artillery fire adjustment.



It would have been a danger, close (shells landing within a couple of hundred metres of our own troops, perhaps right on top of them). Firing one guess round, then trying to adjust from there. Wild, Hairy Arsed Guess’s, could prove, to be not all that reliable in the end.



While trying to screen our approach, we’d lobbed a few smoke, and phosphorus grenades, which had managed to set the clumps of thick gorse on fire. Being of no use whatsoever  where I was sitting, I decided to find someone, that might be able to use the radio, and co-ordinate the arty support, if possible. As I hadn’t heard, from quite a few of the other parties, I didn’t know if they were experiencing comms problems, or, they were dead.



I got into a half crouch, and tried to get mobile, but I tripped over my own feet, and went headfirst, down the slope. I started to roll down the hill, towards the burning bushes. The enemy, now finding that I wasn’t dead, opened up on me. The bullets chased me, from an Argy machine gunner, all the way down the slope, which didn’t endear me to the people already there.



I caught sight of PJ, and the Boss, further around the slight corner, in the fold in the ground, where we re-grouping. I only caught a brief glimpse of PJ. He half-smiled, and then he, and the boss, had disappeared into the smoke. I didn’t really think that I would ever see the two of them again. Not being able to do anything further for the wounded, I left Dinger next to monster Adams, and crawled over, to where one of the GMPG’s was set up.



“ Got any link mate?” was the first words to me. To which I replied “No”.



“Then fuck off you useless bastard”, was the terse reply. Quickly followed by, “They’re shooting everyone who’s got bergans, and radios. But first, they’re shooting all the blokes beside him, hoping they’re officers. It’s not healthy, having you around, so go and find some cunt you don’t like, and sit beside him”.



I knew exactly what they were talking about. I had already passed one of the medics, and the sapper, from 59 commando, in fact, he was an ex 9 Para Sqn. lad. Snipers had taken them both out. That’s why we were using trailing wire antennas, and trying to create the lowest profile possible. Trying to blend in, and appear that we were unimportant, ordinary, infantry soldiers. Their snipers were good, and I wanted to live a little bit longer. Unfortunately, I was at the time, carrying the full Monty, and did stick out like a sore thumb. It was hard to blend in, when nobody wanted you around them.



“ I’ve got a pair of laser bino’s though, if you want, I could spot for you”? I offered.

“ Why didn’t you say that the first time, you stupid git. Give us the range to those grave stones, left of the

clump”, he spat with an evil grin.



A couple of belts of link flew through the air, and landed beside me. I picked them up, and threw them to his number two. “Here, shithead, Fill your boots”! I pulled the bino’s out, from inside the front of my smock, and switched them on. Adjusting the focus, I zapped the target that had been given to me.



“Range 600 “ I shouted out.

“ON”

  



LEFT A BIT AND LEFT A BIT

Left a bit

and left a bit

and left a little more.

Now add a bit

and add a bit

just add a little more .

The arc’s not high, as you watch it fly.

Though the chattering rattle, amidst all the battle,

causes your ears to roar .

One belt down, fifty rounds. Tracer one in four.

Now left a bit

and left a bit ..........

Jim Love