Gentlemen of the Cotton Towns

 

 

     I had flown with the best of them,

Fresh faces – lean with a look of hunger

And all to do their bit for Queen and Country,

I had leapt too,

Felt the mighty currents of air

Roar through my ears at terminal velocity

And I could run like the very wind itself,

And I had walked with comrades

On grounds that could take away

Your stride and legs and mind

And all in a matter of seconds,

And I had felt the slick cutting of air

As rounds you couldn’t see passed by -

So close;

     So close we were,

 

     We shared latrines and spit,

And gritted teeth through squalor

Lay in barrels beneath the hole

Cut for our pleasure,

And we watched as casevac’d,

The next casualties flew

Back to England’s pastures green –

And we laughed at tales

Of morbid conundrums and decorum,

And sweated fast on poems

Wrote from loved ones for our honour,

But all that, all that was given,

Was not the making of this Man.

 

     Returning to a point of no return,

Once proud towns of cotton mills

Took back the sons that left -

But here,

     Here lay only scars and regrets

For having left so many behind

Whence there was ever,

Ever more work to do,-

 

     I mixed with the best

There and then,

And mixed too -

With comrades of a war

That never should have happened,

    

     In Golcar British Legion

I saw them drop one by one,

Once proud majestic men

With memories of war

Ingrained in legs

That took the hand grenades

And bullets,

     I saw the beginnings

Of Bill and David Stirlings

Troop, and I felt

At ease among a full

Strength Squadron of Gentlemen

That were never born for killing,

     Alas,

They drop in time,

     Seeking sleep for all they

Witnessed and I could fully

Understand their woe,

But couldn’t muster forgiveness

For the foe

Of yesterday that these

Men could never comprehend;

That nation that embarked

Upon the murder of The Earth.

 

     They dropped in time,

Fred, Steve, many more

Just ordinary names but no

Ordinary folk,

No ordinary folk at all,

And then the makings of this man;

The humility of war

Be indescribable,

But I saw with open eyes

The babes of Huddersfield

And Halifax,

     And I knew with open heart

They walk a freedom

That tears could never win,

For it took the guts

And taking of all sanity

To produce a victory in Europe,

     And there,

Be my pride in Britain’s

Humble folk.

 

     I see a child walk among

The cotton towns,

I see his smile and contented way

Of life,

     I see that with which

Steve and Fred, and many

Next door names

Never had the privilege of,

I see the innocence

‘They’ fought for,

And as I think upon those names

I had the pleasure of shaking hands,

I know within myself,

Steve, Fred, and all

A congregated host of gentlemen,

You were the very best

This country had within her ranks,

     And we here who walk

Within our freedoms

Can only sit in awe

At the sacrifice you gave,

And because of you,

     We’re blessed,

     We’re blessed,

     We are blessed.

 

 

Michael J Waite 17^th October 2013.