1918 Special

I

Krishna Pandit engineer by trade

worked his way to England bound for France

talent spotted from the ranks was made

driver of tanks

Whippet Quick his rusty chariot

twenty tonnes of steel plus men & guns

half a league about a cigarette

scattering Huns

not that Krishna glorified the work

mountain station air had cooled his veins

steady handed fed on beans & pork

kit-bagged his shame

furthermore the Indian was wise

owl-eyed a sage beyond his years

fellows loved him to extemporise

cocking their ears

bettered English letters by his talk

love thy foes he'd quip but hate their ways

shrapnel struck him as a flock of hawks

battle was praised

*

Ziggy Sarkis laughed a noted wag

cried hurrah for hussars but the horse

saw him first no shame on it to drag

doubt on his arse

never fear an airman's cap might fit

seven thousand feet above the lines

all he'd need for nerves were steel & wits

not to be blind

drunk of course no telling what he thought

over stirrup cups before the up

supping two too many Ziggy bought

Sopwith a pup

oof said he there's only so much string

pull the other Ma if die I must

let it be drowned in a submarine

honest not fussed

but another type of metal box

Ziggy found himself committed to

rudderless no wings a beast on tracks

best she could do

*

Raw could not have drawn the shorter straw

nursemaid to an Hindu & a toff

after crying what a bloody war

took his hat off

joining up from civvy street urgent

schooled on Maxims then in '16 Raw

switched to Vickers quit his regiment

MG the Corps

till the order came again all change

sent to man the loops inside a tank

on a hush job sort of light brigade

devil to thank

not content with that the arms were French

Hotchkisses with belts of metric rounds

fired sideways down along your trench

from over ground

this while doing six or seven knots

cooped inside a lurching metal box

hell on wheels & sweating blood in pots

sooner be fox

II

rich der pickings Allied soldiers wear

lambswool mittens linen under-clothes

fondly sent from homes untouched by war

nothing by halves

ration boxes stuffed with chocolate bars

pork & beef in rounds of purest white

dairy butter spiced with cucumbers

spinsters' delight

sticks of life called Hans or Christian stark

staring stormtroops little more than scare

crows patrol an eerie landscape pick

King George's fare

Kaiser Wilhelm's words irrelevant

marching orders those who understand

Hinderburg or Ludendorf like men

in no-man's land

deafened numb with cold & dumb they keep

hope alive in crater pools & holes

dug beneath the fallen when they sleep

kettle drums roll

but no thought of giving in has stuck

foreign mud beneath their feet is sweet

rich der pickings in zis Belgian muck

theirs no defeat

long as shells & wire spades & mud

don't give out for breakfast schnapps & bread

no surrender dead der Komrades' blood

flows black & red

not for Kaiser love of country God

Death incarnate caught their mood to live

strutting scarecrows trench by trench they plod

open eyelids

through the hail of iron fireflies

peering cooly down their barrels aim

deadly shots at Liberty's allies

GIs the same

bullets counting one for one The Fall

harvests pink-faced youths from Langedoc

Hartlepool and the prairie grain-bowl

hard place to rock

acolytes of anti-Christ survive

crucified on iron crosses rise

grim & bloody faced to fight again

ghouls with a yen

taking fodder groomed by church & state

pimply boys in numbers not too great

here & there they match them to their fate

tying to stakes

lures for Tommy Atkins bait for Jacques

traps to snare the Yankee infantry

charging reckless in open country

into the crack

doom awaits whoever should attack

caught in crossfire skittled by grenades

drowned in mud disguised by clever sacks

murdered in raids

worshippers of doom will win this war

kings of Death have forged an after-life

hung on barbs it jigs in merry gore

triumphant strife

III

training took forever half a twelve

month the plain of Salisbury all churned

up as Private Pandit learned to swerve

brake and reverse

differential failures plagued the work

twin transmissions see & engines kept

boiling over leaving fumes to lurk

deep in their chests

yet a better life than at the front

playing cards in barrack room or pub

letting conscript soldiers bear the brunt

till the last shove

still the war dragged on in France & five

times had Autumn's chill been hand in glove

when from o'er the Channel there arrived

orders to move

Jerry'd staked his last reserves the bout

really would be over Christmas come

just a frog-marching of the Jackboots

out of Belgium

*

tanks a Brigadier tells Parade

trample down yon wires bridge the holes

eat your very mud while feet of clay

follow in droves

wonder-struck the chappies listen up

one per company each tank will push

Boschie back three thousand yards & stop

so you may rush

bayonets fixed all through the gaps there left

round the blighters up if they will yield

otherwise dispose of them as best

clearing the field

cavalry will then take up the drive

gallop through the breaches you have made

kick what's left of Jerry's rotten hide

into his caves

if this works & with our tanks it must

by tomorrow morning's armistice

half a league of trenches guns & stores

fall unto us

*

blimey if the Hun is packing in

what's the point of staging one last fling

surely keeping casualties to min's

far better thing

orders Sunshine put your faith in me

what's an armistice but three black lights

floating through the stars as you can see

wait for their whites

scared is what I am & petrified

soil my pants a dozen times before

sunrise tanks or no that mud is wide

shrapnel galore

keep your head you sniveling lump of grease

think it's only you who'll cop a load

pray to God or write your Ma a piece

faith in me Toad

holding you to that so help me I'll

shut my trap but here's the awful case

you and only you will have me smile

Death in the face

IV

Whippet Sarkis Raw & Pandit three

men in a tank Death is waiting for

munch their sarnies swill their gin & tea

breakfast at war

zero hour's not till six so while

Captain Ziggy draws on cigarettes

Corporal Raw is snoring whizz-bang whines

like string quartets

Private Pandit shunning drink & smoke

prays a mantra to the fading stars

begging war god Durga to invoke

Venus or Mars

Durga rides as Kali manifest

tiger mounted many-armed & yet

peacefully in face & bearing smiles

comely & mild

fight thy foe she says with love not hate

killing evil purges thee from sin

send them back from whence they came that way

new life begins

Captain Ziggy speaks his mind to him

fading stars snuffed out by creeping light

rise & shine to live their lives again

while those who fight

die forever is it right he asks

killing mothers' sons because they're Huns

they believe their cause be just the fact

is here's the sun

Krishna it's a shame to die but worse

where's the sense in all this killing eh

tell me why we have to fight because

don't wanna play

cheery up my captain load thy gun

here today tomorrow gone & who

cares but those who live to soldier on

life's a rum do

we that kill the sacred water ox

God has doomed there's nothing left a crime

unforgiveable but bide our time

wait for the knocks

all that matters here in hell's the bond

soldiers kill like brothers each for each

swords & guns have waved a magic wand

no gurus teach

double edged the blade of honour cuts

slayed & slayer arm-in-arm alike

live or die it's shooting cocoanuts

sixpence a shy

pick the fallen up & eat 'em prize

cannibals no time to sympathise

fish the sea for sunken treasure or

perish ashore

only we as higher creatures think

better men than us will come anon

human beings should be carry on

if we don't blink

pearls of wisdom Private start her up

there's the signal three black lights above

forward both your engines man the loops

off with our gloves