Rebecca Oughton (13)’s poem

Brain walker has commented on Armistice day below and I will not add to his comments save to say that it was particularly appropriate and poignant that there were three men who fought in the war there: one from each of the army, navy and airforce. On the way home this evening I was listening to radio 4 and this poem from 13 year old Rebecca Oughton was read out. I will reproduce it below the fold.

Except for the constant rattle of machine guns, The shrill screeching of shells And the blood curdling screams of dying men.
Except for the eerie scurrying of rats, The smooth flight of bomber planes And the soldiers running frantically like children from a dog.
Except for the wounded, never to walk again, The soldiers fighting for their lives on the front line And the families receiving that dreaded telegram.
Except for the hopelessness in the face of death, The screaming pain inflicted on arms being forced to hold a rifle for hours And the feeling of your legs giving way beneath you.
Except for the possibility of never returning home, The sheer terror overcoming all other emotions And the vanishing of all hopes of a red uniform and a brass band Life.
Except for the festering corpses scattered like poppy seeds, The men falling soundlessly, never to laugh again And the dull, lifeless eyes of the friend you have known since childhood.
Except for the war.

This author has not written a biography and will not be writing one.

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