Volleys Of Shots Rang Out As We Stormed

Volleys of shots rang out as we stormed,
the trenches that were meandering formed,
in the distance snipers were firing from a wall
into the cover of the nearest ditch we did fall.

A trooper next to me suddenly smiled
and everywhere around us was death’s smell,
the winter sun was very weak but mild
while our ears sang from a mortar shell.

In succession into the trench we did leap,
I fired from the hip from the point of entry,
the light machinegun did chattering sweep
in a enemy camp in a bordering country

where as soldiers we had parachuted in
and a passing bullet burnt my arm’s skin.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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