White Flags Over Stanley. Falklands Five.

 

We sat and cleaned,

We sat and polished,

We sat and oiled,

We sat and checked

The action.

We sat and checked

Our mags.

We counted spare mags,

Filled them with caress.

We counted grenades.

We looked to the horizon.

We looked for the airport.

Changed our socks.

 

We were cold,

We were battered

And we were soaked.

Thank god there’s

Always a joker.

The great artiste

One in every room.

We huddled together

Mingled warmth

And shit rations.

Shivering.

And we were angry.

Many had surrendered 

themselves into early graves.

 

The airport was next.

After the lofty heights.

They were dug in.

The SAS reconnoitred.

Recce squad had reconnoitred.

Moters were pointed.

Artillery was zeroed.

We ate shit rations.

We drank tea.

We joked a bit

We didn’t discuss

Fear.

I thought of my girl.

Then forgot her

And thought about

Dying.

 

The Colonel

Surrounded 

By his officers

His maps

His radios

And a cup of tea.

Pointed and spoke

Machine guns here

20mm canon there.

Slit trenches

Morters.

And men ready

To kill.

Us them.

Them us.

But we had the high ground.

We had the training.

Ready to move

Sisters!

Twins.

 

Stanley surrounded.

Airport surrounded 

Bombed by harriers

And Vulcans.

Then the colonel

Gathered everyone.

They had abandoned

The airport,

Run to Stanley.

Panicked.

Scared and seeking

Shelter

From the storm.

The colonel

“Gentlemen”

“There are white flags over Stanley”

And that was that.

 

But there’ll always be more

I turned twenty 

In that cold place

And my kill count was

Four.

And that’s not an 

easy to close door.