Volleys of shots rang out as we stormed,
the trenches that were meandering formed,
in the distance snipers were firing from a wall
into the cover of the nearest ditch we did fall.
A trooper next to me suddenly smiled
and everywhere around us was death’s smell,
the winter sun was very weak but mild
while our ears sang from a mortar shell.
In succession into the trench we did leap,
I fired from the hip from the point of entry,
the light machinegun did chattering sweep
in a enemy camp in a bordering country
where as soldiers we had parachuted in
and a passing bullet burnt my arm’s skin.
Gert Strydom
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/volleys-of-shots-rang-out-as-we-stormed/
