George had not seen such a bloodbath like that;
He'd seen his fair share of death and dying;
Witnessed the wounded with life changing wounds;
Seen dead horses on the roadside and fields,
Or those injured whinning out their pains,
Large eyes staring, terrorised by the war,
Unlike the men, not knowing what war was for.
But this slaughter witnessed, George knew, was bad:
the sheer numbers, mass ****** of his men,
Walking, not running, towards machine guns,
Rat-a-tat-tat disturbing the bird song;
Shells exploding blasting men to pieces.
George survived the onslaught without a wound,
Except the wound opening up within
His mind; sights seen, sounds heard, orders giving, orders obeyed towards a death.
George was hospitalised: shell-shock they said,
But all George could see was fields of the dead.
© 2 minutes ago, Terry Collett
An officer shell-shocked on the Somme 1916