Sidney was 5’2’
and weighed 200lbs
and was 79 years old

and each morning
you had to clean him up
and wash and dry
and powder him
and dress him
in his old clothes

but this morning
having done all that
he said
you don’t know
what war is like
you youngsters

he had broken
his usual silence
words instead of grunts
communication
instead of his own
quiet conversation
beneath breath

it’s not like it’s seems
in the films

I guess not
you said
and sat beside him
on the unmade bed

and he told you
of life in the trenches
of blood and guts
and men without arms
or legs or heads
lying there exposed

he paused now
and then
to look
at his arthritic hands
the fingers bent
the nails fresh clipped

he said
I stumbled
into this woods once
by mistake
and there they were
hundreds of bodies
mostly dressed in uniforms
bloodied some
but mostly just lying there
piled in some areas
like hunks of meat
and one of two
were by my feet
as if asleep

here he stopped
and looked at you
young as you
some were
fresh faced
blank of eye
sans gaze
sans life
some one’s husband
or lover or father
or brother

he paused
to stroked his head
with his bent fingers  

never forgotten that
he said
those carcasses
the silent soldiers
the forgotten dead

he was quiet after that
and you got him
off the bed
and on his way
on his frame
along the passage
to the dining room
shuffling
at his own pace
with short moustache
and war memories
lined
on his warrior face.