大象传媒

My father was captured on Crete and wrote this poem while a POW in Austria.

CRETE

There is a little island that nestles in the sea, the people there were happy and just wanted to be free.
And when the war clouds came along and threatened their small isle, they bore all hardships as they came and met them with a smile.

But on that fateful morning the 20th of May the parachutists landed their just at the break of day.
Imperial troops were their at once to meet the herd of Huns, the solitude was broken by crash of bomb and gun.

The sky was black with warplanes and bombs dropped by the score and though the Huns played havoc the R.A asked for more.
The boys from faithful armies fought on Canea bridge the Welshmen from all parts of Wales hung on to Suda ridge.

The battle raged both fast and fierce and grit displayed was fine, and when some boys could take no more then others took the lines.
They fought on through this hell let loose and many fell dead their, for flash and cloud can't combat planes that hustle through the air.

Our friends lie their in slit trench graves, those boys were staunch and true. They made the one great sacrifice for freedoms sake and you.
They stood their ground and fought the foe till that great reaper came, they fought and died for what was right and not for worldly fame.

So when this this war is over friends just say a silent prayer for mothers, wives and sweethearts who lost their loved ones their.
And when the great white angels spread out that honoured roll their names will shine like silver upon that golden scroll.

So now whenever comrades of our great empire meet, we will all remember those who died for us on Crete.

Gunner Albert Edward Payne. Prisoner of war 5158 Stalag 18A. Work camp 10487/GW Villach Austria.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.