The Vain Hope

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When the bugle calls, men or those but boys,
Shine their shoes and join the camaraderie of arms.
They see no further than the cordite smell,
Of training range and playground toys.
Pints of beer with barrack mates,
Old hands telling tales of glory,
Eyes are blind to the IED,
The wheel-chair lad a different story.
It’s brave you see to die this way,
And cowards are all who stay behind.
The blinded never see.
Without these willing fools,
Tyrants’ meat and drink.
The politicians pool of power,
Fed by those who fear to think.
Yet how can one imagine,
A world without a war,
A world without an army,
What would men do in such a world,
Where dreams of peace was all they’d have,
And battle grounds a football pitch.
No monuments and medals,
No sunset last post bugle blast,
No tales of glory from death’s endless past.
A fragile peace…Oh that would never last.