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The Call

The Call

Joe Heathcock


I remember the day I read “The Call”
It made me go to war.
But, five years on, after I’d taken a fall
I’d never have gone,
gone to war.

The pain and horror I was forced to withstand!
Marching through the black night
On the front-line of battle, I had to stand
With the enemy close in sight.

If you, too, were there, in the midst of strife,
In the mud and pouring rain
If you could hear soldiers shouting for their lives,
If you could hear their cries of pain

If you could see them blown to bits,
By an explosive enemy shell
If you, too, were there,
With fleas and nits,
And heard the dreaded bell

A thick, dense fog surrounding you,
In a world of your own
The gas drowning their voices too
And if you, too, could hear them moan

I’m sure you would not be so quick to exclaim
What others have cried to me
That war and struggle is just a game,
And that you will come back,
with “such” glee.


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