A boy at my school was being taunted about his grandfather
being a 'cowardly conchie' during the First World War.
When I
asked my mum about this she told me that the lad's grandfather had not fought
in the war but acted as a stretcher bearer, frequently on the front line of
battle, and was no coward.
She also explained to boy Roger (I would have been about 10 years old at the time) that people who hold
fast to their convictions rather than surrender to demands to the contrary are no cowards anyway.
(Image taken from the Internet)
STRETCHER BEARER
I wear a
badge of courage
few can
see who look for medals
on the
chest
or a
victory sign to oblige the press
anxious
for a story,
but less
interested in mine;
I’m no
hero, not me,
shooting
holes in the glory
of a
devotion to duty
I wear a
badge of courage
few can
see who look for scars
won in
battle
or,
better still, a crippling injury
that will
treat me
to free
beers at local bars;
for me,
only looks
and words
drawn like swords,
politics
of all wars
I wear a
badge of courage,
will join
heads bowed in gratitude
and pride
at the finest marble
monuments
to its tears, the price
(no
choice?) of freedom,
so many
would have us believe,
if not
the likes of me
left
stitching up the glory
of a
devotion to duty
Under
fire, I, the stretcher bearer,
Front Line
conscientious objector
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
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