Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon waits in a cornflower dress

Waits on the porch white gloves in hand

The recruiter’s drum and bugle glory  

Delirium of King and Country

Found this Saskatchewan farm boy

On a train to eastern Canada

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon waits in a cornflower dress

Waits on the porch white gloves in hand

Faceless alone in a milling crowd

Of fellows who’d become as brothers

Bound by the chaos of snarling sergeants

Welded together to a killing machine

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon waits in a cornflower dress

Waits on the porch white gloves in hand

Two years of rifle mortar and cannon shot 

Becomes the white noise of auto motion 

Instinctive reaction to shouted commands

Training done tough trained killers optimum 

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon waits in a cornflower dress

The crossing exhausting in vomit and cramp

Seven days of slave ship food and mess

Southampton in the rain but land none the less

By foot truck and train to another tent camp

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon waits 

Interminable days of arduous hours

Pack filled ammo rucking for days

Body hard spirit dulled auto response 

Invincible forty man killing machine

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon 

A summer day like most others

Sept for the war geysers as we rush

To a beach on which this  summer day

We most will die under this summer sky 

Big gray farmhouse 

Two sections 

The roars and horrors of munitions sound

The familiar white noise harmless now

The landing craft snarls through angry seas

Peppered by hales of machine gun rounds

Big gray farmhouse pines

The Padre’s blessing in my ears

I’ll die today but pray its clean

Not left torn in pieces to die by inches

Or worse to live in hate and helpless

Big gray farmhouse grove 

The bow ramp drops those first burst out

In blood spray mixed with ocean foam

We run without a thought or care

Save getting off that maelstrom beach

Gray farmhouse 

Silence crashes down a hammer absent sound

Half buried in sand stone and gore

No sense of time no sense of pain

Immobile yet I see my self my hand my gun

Big gray 

Sharon

White battle noise the din confirms

I’m here amid the slaughtered alive

Rising running writhing foaming

To sojourn on in chaotic trance

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

sharon

Sunset on a summer day amid the dead

I sit and wonder what God planned for

Those who this day was their last

While I must endure this "glory" past

Big gray farmhouse in a grove of pines

Two sections down on a dusty road

Sharon waits in a cornflower dress

Waits on the porch white gloves in hand