What bends the squaddy’s mind, that on return

Mates nightly sunder, as now, he in turn?

 

Perhaps it is munitions’ modern might

To shred, truncate, dismember, burn, or crush

That, set against  the Home Land’s lack of plight

Turns minds of finest fighting men to mush.

 

 

 

They serve him not who only sit and wait

Till mercenary survivor clicks the gate.

 

For though a fight is meat and drink to man

This meat is human chunks, with blood to taste.

He joined up with adventurer’s élan

Now stark incongruity must be faced.

 

 

 

This War on Terror was a bridge too far;

No foe with sandy boots will cross our bar.

 

But politicians, heedless of their gall

Send off these willing lads to man their ploy

And losing more than ever take the pall

Just War’s  fragile integrity - destroy.