大象传媒

SOLDIER UKKNOWN.
Eighteen men were we. Eighteen men, each other's names, unknown to each other. Digging in near a canal. A canal, a cricket wide. Grey faced soldiers, fatigued, depressed, retreating men. Digging in, marching again; digging in again, after marching, wearying, wearing sweating miles; where feeling, sense of time, day and night, lost their meaning.
Out-gunned, outnumbered, out-tanked, outflanked, to a canal, our final battleline. Straining red rimmed eyes, listening, our ears and weapons cocked. Watching. Waiting for the night, our ration of grenades et hand.Uneasy.Uneasiness, steeling allotted sleep. A canal between us, an obstacle to them, but not to bullets, screaming shell, nor their maiming, killing mortar bomb.
Behind us, our daylight post; a farm dwelling; bombed. Walls, but two; two floors, no roof. A post, to which we withdrew, at the first slit of dawn.
He, and I, detailed to watch from above; to marvel at the sight of a thickening mist, drifting over the water; and the ground to our front.! mist, heralding another scorching day. A spectacle; a spectacle, which could be the last for some; could well be me thought I.
June the first, a wondrous day. A day for family picnics; a day for joyously living, not for dying,(joylessly, before the eerie mist would clear.
Beyond our rear, our planned withdrawal was clear; along a straight narrow road; a road exposed, it_ a flat, flooded countryside. Fields awash. The road, prominent, like a road on a map in relief. A defensive ploy? Our isolated escape route.

A tempting target. An invitation to their deadly Stuka's shrieking aim.
The strong light grew stronger. Cur anxious eyes, sought each other's anxious eyes, momentarily wavered, and looked away. I wondered, if he and 1.........
'Stand to lads'
The shouted command shocked us brutally alert. Triggers and men tensioned. Tired eyes focusing on the approaching patrol; casually strolling, they seemed like men without legs, strolling through the deceiving knee high mist. One of them smoking. Arrogant, sure of success, sure of their successful, blistering Blitzkrieg.
We fired. They dropped from sight. We'd lost them, but they
Not us; bullets whipped from their flanking support, pinning us down. Bloody outflanked again. Twirling stick grenades twisted wickedly, burst to the front of us, behind us; ricochets slicing over us, slashing the walls; thought of him beside me, I looked, he winked and dropped his he ad, and so did I then beside me, I heard a sharp, pursed, hissed intake breath of pain, as if of a cruel razor's nick, the lad shot up, a force flung him back against a wall as if pinned, crucified, arms outstretched; ashen faced, his eyes wild, uncontrollable, rolling eyes, unseeing, searching heavenwards; his throat gashed, spouting blood, spattering me, weaving ominous patterns, hideous in design; gurgling for his mother , mother, smother, once, twice, three gurgling times, before slowly crumpling dead, poor sod thank god!!.
I swallowed hard, and crawled towards him, I was as sick as hell, only seconds before we'd shared a forbidden fag. He was now beyond fear, or care, a clean death, not one in the guts, a wound
We鈥檇 discussed. Averting my eyes I reached for his disc, that was all

I could do to help him. I would let his mother know, but a searing
Splinter stopped me........
So now, and ever since, on the first of July, and again in November,! With head bent, think of them all specially him, with a silence of reverence, for my unknown soldier, and I always will.

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