Another Muddy Hill Falklands Three

A muddy fucking hill. Falklands Three

 

The hill.

Just up

the hill.

Need it.

Right flank

Cover for centre.

Ghurka’s on our

Left flank,

That’s good

They’re good.

 

Then advance

Fast and hard

Bound.

Don’t take

A round.

Fix bayonets

Shit 

That means close.

Please no mines!

Please no mines!

 

Rounds buzzing

And cracking.

Fucking hell

Mate.

If I cop

It.

Hope its quick.

Me too.

Move forward

Want to go

Backward.

Light order.

Weapons and

Ammo.

And water.

 

First platoon

First.

Second platoon

Move through.

Third platoon reserve.

Lucky bastards.

Off!

First platoon 

Up the hill.

Tracer buzzing

Twenty meters…

Down for cover.

 

Second platoon us!

Run scared towards…

Past first platoon, 

ten more yards

Search for dead ground.

Cover!

There is none.

If someone goes down

Keep going.

Orders.

Training.

Dive to the ground! 

Start laying down

Rounds, cover,

Suppression,

For one platoon.

 

Glimpse man fall

Doesn’t get up.

No more fear

Adrenalin massive

Shouting, get up.

Run through first.

Ten yards.

Cover again, 

Dead ground.

Apt name

Start looking for

Targets.

Can’t see.

That’s good.

If I can’t see them

Maybe they can’t 

See me! 

 

Spot young conscript

Being stupid.

Keeps popping up

Regular fashion.

Fires his rounds then ducks

Back down.

I just aim at the spot 

up he comes

One round!

No more ducking!

Shouting, yelling.

Up again bound through

First platoon, 

Ten yards more.

Down!

 

Second platoon

Nearly there.

Spanish voices

Spanglish.

“Surrender”

Hear rounds.

No more shouts.

First up and 

Into trenches 

See man.

Two rounds

To chest

Down,

Have to step

on him

To move forward.

 

Grenades in fox holes.

Its beginning 

to quiet, to slow down.

Slow motion, hands raised.

Yelling!

Get over fucking there!

Butts and barrels

 in backs shoving.

Yelling. Pushing.

Some have washed lines

On their face.

Where tears have

cleaned away the dirt!

The relief of living.

 

The counting starts,

We’ve lost two!

They’ve lost twenty plus.

Radio call,

medivac.

Combat medics begin.

Its time

Ours go in body bags.

A heavy weight.

Theirs are laid in line

Peaceful in death.

Some faces

Contorted.

Orders given,

Pickets set. 

Waiting for the chopper.

 

Suddenly someone laughs,

We all laugh,

Pat backs.

Seemed like a lifetime

Took ten minutes.

The adrenalin goes.

I need sleep.

Exhausted.

I handed the

Letter back.

Ready for the next fucking muddy hill!

 

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Bhi

Love the pace of this.

ChairmanWow

Intense, minimalist verse.