A Lebanon winter Sunday morning ,
i am orderly cook first up braving
the mountain wind in my face,
head shrugging into my shoulders hunched,
shiver .
I say hello to the kitchen ,
turn on the lights open the fridge .
Blast the warm gas flame
somehow reminds me of a turf ad on t.v back home
I lower the flame and fry some eggs .
The bacon spits and crinkles
when up the hill a hairy frenzy brakes .
I step outside and peer ,
red tracer rounds race and rake
Dangerous, no Chinese feast this .
Darkness grabs the kitchen
The first mortar hits .
I turn the lambent flames off .
Shrill siren groundhog .
Bedlam , flak jackets , helmets , casualties
the kitchen is now a bunker.
Roache and O'Flaherty from County Clare
two big genuine men.
O'Flaherty hands crossed the outside door threshold
with a flop as he collapsed, the lads drag him inside .
Roache now bleeds on the kitchen floor
blood spurts from his thigh.
I do my best to help
breath deep yet worry
We are all U.N , defenceless
can't hit back .I hear shells whistle
and impact the building and our state of mind ?
is this my last moment ?
we wait we cope.
We even manage to **** ,laugh and then mortars boom.
The Israelis want to **** us
but we have a T-wall called luck .
Pat our medic plays a stormer , fair play
I see young soldiers sitting on the floor shaking
with fear , cant stand , do i see tears ?
Medivac , stretchers lift Roache & O'Flaherty
Six men to lift big John .
Noel is calm , shrapnel is his thigh & a kitchen knife
his ad-hoc splint for his thumb.
Eventually relief its all over now .
My heart pumps , what should i feel ?
How can i analyse this ?
Can i have a cup of tea Alan ?
I put on the kettle as people are
now reaching for normal .
I get down on my hands & knees
wiping blood of the floor .
Visceral inner fight.
i then light up the gas
and i fry some eggs .
