War Poetry

With Songs to the Battle
for Chris Masters.

He never marched. All his life
his refusal. For most of it
his silence.

And then the mortar started.
I'll tell you what I did.
I left my rifle there and ran.
Through heavy fog. I couldn't see
a foot in front of me. And then
I ran into a Jap and we rolled
into a muddy little gully
face to face. My worst nightmare.
The wind knocked out of me,
I had to fight for life. And then
I heard him start to cry. I felt the tremors
of his grief. Deep sobs.
He was as old as me, about 20.
He went silent when I pushed his face
into the mud and held it till he drowned.
When I got up I was covered
in blood. And then I realised
I'd killed a wounded man.

We were sitting in his small back garden.
His wife stood watching us
through the kitchen window.

You see your world turned upside down.
People who would not rank in civilian life
suddenly have power over you - their constant
small-minded bastardry. One young bloke
I remember, revealed accidentally
that his officer had not gone out
on a scouting party he was meant to.
Next day the officer sent him out, on his own
to check the same treacherous ground.
He never came back. So what happens
if I run into that swine on Anzac Day?

Eyes moistened and the aged face straining,
he turned away from the house
so as not to be seen by his wife.

None of this made me a good soldier.
I never developed the will to kill; I
just tried to get through. One of the men
shot a civilian once. Someone said the bearer
had worked for the Japanese. Who knows
if it was true. One of the tough blokes
took him to the back of a clearing,
put a Tommy gun to his head
and blew his brains out. I can still see
the face on that bearer as he was led away.
In war, some of the best soldiers
are the worst people. It's primal.
They're worshipped for actions
that would be seen as psychotic
in other places, other times.

His wife brought us out some tea.
Her shaking hands, her eyes
told me it was time to go.

by Ron Pretty

This poem is based on a chapter in Chris Master's book Not for Publication.