#ramc
On the retreat through
Belgium you tended to
a young soldier wounded
by machine gun fire across
his abdomen. He lay there
on a stretcher unconscious.
He needed a doctor but none
was there. You unwound the
bloodied bandages. His arm
was hanging loose and a bone
was poking through. He was
still unconscious. A fellow
soldier suggested they move
on as the Germans were not
far away. You rebandaged him.
He was pale. You got two
stretcher bearers to take him
to the nearest ambulance.
They walked off with him
across the muddy ground
to a battered ambulance
over the way. Move on the
sergeant called Jerry's on
his way. You moved into
the ambulance and off it
went. The soldier lay there
unaware of the place or time
or danger. You watched him
there without worries or care.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
The young German prisoner
has lost a leg
and lies on a bed
with the stump bandaged
a mixture of white and red.
You tend him
with what you have
and with what
little German
you know.
Other patients lie about
with others standing
by the door
waiting to be seen
with minor wounds
in flesh or head
and others
their faces covered
are the dead.
You take a break
and stand outside
for a smoke.
The rain has stopped
and a dull mist
hovers over the way.
You hear the guns
carried on the wind.
Tanks pass by
and up the road
and soldiers move
in the rear
with their guns
and gear.
You finish the cigarette
and flick
the **** away.
Two more have died
their faces covered.
Another young soldier
lies nearby
his head bandaged
hands aquiver
finger missing
calling for his mother
in child-like cries.
Over the other side
another dies.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
The young soldier was dying.
You had done all you could
for him but to no avail. He
muttered words urgently as
if had wanted to unburden
himself before it was too late.
You leaned closer to him but
the words were too soft and
looking at you he died. You
closed his lifeless eyes and
moved to another older his head
bandaged blood seeping through.
Others assisted over the way
dressing wounds. You were tired.
The day had begun badly. Bodies
of the dead lay to one side no
more to be done for them. The head
wound was bad and bleed profusely.
You did the best you could with
what you had. Tanks moved past
along the road. Soldiers marched
past gazing at you in the tent with
the wounded. Far off gunfire sounded.
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC