Friends and Enemies Alike ©
Bobbe J MacDonald
We thought we heard a cry, we did! from a soldier going to die
He pleaded all to listen before it was to late, we did!
for fear his death would be our fate.
"Tell them." he said; "Tell them all at home that we do die alone.
Let them all know about the mud, the fog, the snow,
The fog we wish would rise and yet afraid we see who cries, who dies.
For fear it is our fate."
Constantly we think of home. We did!
Of woods and fields and rising sun and silence while rivers run.
Of gales that split the earth in half, of bleating sheep, of bawling calf.
But here the silence we all fear. We do.
For we cannot see. We cannot hear, are suddenly condemned to die.
Or for weeks to lie in a trench of mud and stench and gore.
We live without physical sore and wonder what is our fate.
To those at home who cannot comprehend conditions in this land they've never seen.
They only know the sun and warmth of France.
Their monies made and more and more they too live without physical sore.
To us out here, do not condemn. We did!
The gaiety the social jig, for they do not know we die alone.
But ask them, for we shall not grow old, nor will the world on us turn cold,
To remember us for peace. Did we?