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As an 18- to 19-year-old, who landed in Normandy a day or so after D-Day, I subsequently wrote some verses giving my impressions of that campaign. I should like to share a few of them with you.

June 1944

There, in the fields of Normandy that June, the poppies grew,
A generation onwards from the one that Flanders knew.
So many young men also died, their blood spilt on the ground,
Some went out shrieking hoarsely, some died without a sound.
But one thing had remained unchanged, one thing came loud and clear,
That as they fell they too had asked, ‘What was I doing here?’

Killed in Action, 1944 (with apologies to A. E. Housman)

So come and tell me now, my girl, as I lie in the ground,
How many other lovers, what sweethearts, have you found?
I fell a long way from you, not where I chose to be,
So come and tell me, dearest one – are you still missing me?

Normandy, autumn 1944

In Devon’s lanes the hazelnuts are swelling on the trees.
The sloes will soon be ripening, and gentle is the breeze
That sets the leaves a-rustling to sing their autumn song,
While all the scarlet berries tell us, ‘Winter won’t be long’.
Now is the harvest season, the richest time of all,
How sad to think that, over here, too many fruits will fall.

A Soldier’s Question

What is it all about then?
What am I doing here?
Why is my stomach rumbling with a symphony of fear?
When will it all be over, shall I be going home?
Where might the bullet catch me … and will I die alone?

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