Shot at dawn
Intro:Dedicated to the memory of the poor souls shot at dawn during WW1
Now in the dawn of a blood red morn
He looks with dark sad eye
They call his name
The one to blame
It’s now his time to die
He wrote to his wench about the trench
Of the hell of shell from the sky
Why he couldn’t go
He does not know
Can’t explain the reason why
He heard the whistle loud and shrill
Cut through the blasted air
His mind just froze
As the time drew close
He could only sit and stare
Before didn’t stop as over the top
Through machine guns chattering hell
Three years witnessed horrors
Of the lost tomorrows
As his dear comrades fell
For his one ‘mistake’ his life they’ll take
To die in deep disgrace
Blame and shame
Upon his name
A blindfold on his face
He stands there calm shows no alarm
An example to the others
The padre prays
But all he says
Shoot straight and true my brothers
His family grieve they can’t believe
The things they’re told of him
A coward, a liar
Failed under fire
Surely not brave son Jim?
Written as a tribute to the 306 poor souls in WW1 who were shot at dawn for cowardice, desertion, sleeping at their post and a host of other ‘offences.’ They were ‘shell shocked’ soldiers who, in many cases, had been over the top many times and had endured years of gassing and shelling. They were simply suffering PTSD. In some cases they had to defend themselves in their courts martial. They were quickly found guilty and sentenced.
In contrast the Germans only shot around six for these alleged crimes.
It was indeed a disgraceful practice, yet another example of man’s inhumanity to man. A very moving poem pronto.
Val xx
Thanks for dropping by Val your kind words are appreciated.
Thanks Goth I appreciate your very considered appraisal very much.