Hello, I am a member of an online forum about the Great War and I read something today that just triggered something in my head and I had to get it out. I wrote this poem in about 2 hours flat - I think I must have been channelling Mick. Anyway, this is the first time I have ever really written a poem but I hope the old blokes get a kick out of it. Oh and by the way, Im a sheila
Mick's War
When we heard that England had gone to war
Well, we signed up straight away
We’d been keeping an eye on the papers
And we were gonna give the Hun his day
There were five of us who enlisted
Roy, Snowy, the Thomson boys and me
I thought it would be a bit of a lark
And me mum could do with one less to feed
The train ride to Perth was the start of our fun
Then onto Blackboy Hill Camp we went
They were gonna turn us into real fighting men
And that meant sleeping twelve in a six man tent!
I was proud as punch in my new uniform
So we had some pictures taken for fun
The five of us looking pretty ornery
And one of myself - for me mum
Finally it was time to leave ole Freo
The girls on the wharf waved the Jack
I never shed a tear or nothing
But then I never thought we wouldn’t all make it back
The month on the boat was a month too long
I was searching for the white cliffs of Dover
But we ended up in Egypt instead
I didn’t care as long as that boat ride was over
More training then in the heat and the dust
In the shadow of the sphinx at Mena
We spent all our dough on the girls in the town
I reckon there could even be a Mick Junior
At last they were putting us to action
Fighting the Turks at place called Gallipoli
Id never heard of it before the war
But Id never forget it by the time we’d leave
Then came the morn of the landing
Roy and Snowy were in the boat I was in
I wasn’t sure if I would get shot or die drowning
Coz out of the three of us only one could swim
We made it through the first day all right
Though the shelling gave me the jitters
We dug little caves in the side of the cliffs
And that’s why they call us the diggers
The first one to cop it was Roy
They say that He always take the best
A bullet ricocheted off something
And got him right in the chest
He took ages to die poor bugger
I wanted to shoot him meself and get it done
I guess that sounds pretty crook
But it was awful hearing him cry for his mum
We lost a lotta good blokes in them hills
Im not sure what was the worst
The flies, the stink or the shelling
Or sitting around dying of thirst
I’d dropped a stone by the time we left there
We were all looking pretty rough
I said a quiet goodbye to Roy as we left
Jeez, leaving him behind was tough
At long last we sailed for England
More training they thought we were needing
Them English officers were a different lot
All spit and polish and good breeding
A couple of weeks and we headed to France
Where the Frenchies had taken the brunt
Finally, we were facing the Germans
The four of us on the Western Front!
1916 passed like a blur
The noise, the shelling, the mud
We lost most of our company at Moo Cow Farm
I made it out covered in another man’s blood
The Thompson boys were killed that day
Hit by the same shell, they died
I wrote to their mum and said it was quick
At least this time I didn’t have to lie
1917 was more of the same
Id been such a fool before
We thought this would be one big adventure
But it wasn’t adventure, it was war.
Only me and Snowy were left now
Then Snowy took a hit while on duty
They took off his arm but he was all smiles
‘They’re sending me home, you beauty!’
1918, was it really that long?
I’d been away for nearly three years
I’d seen more death and destruction than I ever want to see
And been so cold I’d cried frozen tears
On Anzac Day 1918
Our battalion launched another attack
We captured what was left of Villers Bretonneux
And turned the Germans back
That battle marked the beginning of the end
But I can’t get it out of my head
The Germans had run out of men to fight
It was boys that we were shooting dead
Armistace Day, hoorah, hooray!
Finally, they sent me back home
It was 1919, me old mum was grey
And my brothers and sisters, how they’d grown!
I caught up with Snowy when I got back
Reminiscing over a beer
What a sight we looked, him with one arm
Shouting in my one good ear
There was five of us that went off to war
But only two of us ever came home
Roy, the Thomson brothers and poor Snowy’s arm
Are now all dead and gone
So the plan is now to find a nice gal
Settle down and make her me wife
No more fighting, no more war, no more blood, no more gore
Im 21 and can get on with my life
(C) 2008 Eloise Verlaque
