By LongJohn, honouring the Royal Artillery motto and spirit
They say the infantry hold the ground,
the cavalry takes the glory,
and the gunners…
well, we just change the landscape.
Our thunder isn’t borrowed —
it’s earned,
forged in steel and sweat,
carried on the backs of lads
who know exactly what it means
to serve a crown you’ll never meet
but feel in your bones.
When the order comes,
there’s no hesitation —
just the calm of men
who’ve rehearsed the end of the world
often enough to make it look tidy.
The gun speaks,
the earth answers,
and somewhere in that rolling crack
you hear the history of the regiment —
from Flanders mud
to Afghan dust,
from the smoke of Waterloo
to the cold rain of the Falklands.
We don’t shout about it.
We don’t need to.
The guns do that for us.
And when the smoke clears
and the world steadies itself,
we stand there —
boots planted,
ears ringing,
hearts steady —
knowing we’ve added our own small echo
to the King’s thunder.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 7:24 AM UTC
By LongJohn, honouring the Royal Artillery motto and spirit
They say the infantry hold the ground,
the cavalry takes the glory,
and the gunners…
well, we just change the landscape.
Our thunder isn’t borrowed —
it’s earned,
forged in steel and sweat,
carried on the backs of lads
who know exactly what it means
to serve a crown you’ll never meet
but feel in your bones.
When the order comes,
there’s no hesitation —
just the calm of men
who’ve rehearsed the end of the world
often enough to make it look tidy.
The gun speaks,
the earth answers,
and somewhere in that rolling crack
you hear the history of the regiment —
from Flanders mud
to Afghan dust,
from the smoke of Waterloo
to the cold rain of the Falklands.
We don’t shout about it.
We don’t need to.
The guns do that for us.
And when the smoke clears
and the world steadies itself,
we stand there —
boots planted,
ears ringing,
hearts steady —
knowing we’ve added our own small echo
to the King’s thunder.
Before the guns spoke and the earth answered, I learned what it meant to carry the Royal Artillerys thunder not borrowed, but earned. This poem is my tribute to the lads, the lineage, and the quiet certainty that when the order comes, we stand ready. From mud to mountains, from past to present, this is the echo Ive added to the Queens Thunder.
