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Walk in a Sunken Lane.
I strolled up the lane enjoying my walk,
Steep banks on each side providing shade,
The smell of Violets, Primroses, and Honeysuckle,
Competing to enhance the peaceful scene.
Then with a screech and a terrifying roar,
An R.A.F. Tornado on a training flight
Shattered the peace, silenced the birds.
It was closely followed by three more,
Playing follow my leader up the valley core.
I sank down on the bank, deafened by blast.
Shocked, I sat recovering slowly.
My thoughts went back to another such lane,
A wartime Normandy lane, its steep banks giving shelter.
There I walked beside Joe Hellings and his section of men,
Making our way to the start of an attack.
Joe had just said, "Nice safe approach, plenty of cover".
I stopped, turned around, urging those following to catch up.
Then, without warning, the shells crashed down.
Blown off my feet, I could see the smoke,
Smell the cordite, but was deaf from the blast.
Joe and his men lay dead in the lane,
I picked them up, laid them side by side on the bank.
Sent back the wounded to the first aid post.
Then still deafened, I ran to catch up,
To take my place to start the attack.
Memories pushed to the back of the mind,
The sound subsided. But the mind pictures remained.
