It appears that the morale of British troops in the hell of Hellmand is extraordinarily high!! They feel that this is what they became soldiers for - to fight. Many are volunteering for hurried return to the front line, eager to get back into the fray, and some of these very warriors have fallen in doing just that. RIP. Such is the nature of our soldiers and such is the nature of war. Their parents' call is a different matter of course.
AFTER WATERLOO
Where are they now, those fine lords and ladies
Who danced yesternight at the Duchess’s ball,
Heedless of men drawn warm from their billets
To tread the wet earth at their regiments’ call.
And where are now those burghers of Brussels,
By news of our march drawn all to the street.
To watch us fifed on in our rich blazoned columns
With drums beating time for the fall of our feet.,
And where are they now, our following army
The wives and the sweethearts, matrons and maids,
And wither our corps of gamblers and hucksters,
Harlots and bankers all plying their trades.
Where are they all, now the action is over,
For them we braved round shot, bore bayonet’s thrust,
Now our columns are broken, our bodies lie bleeding
And friend next to foe lie conjoined in the dust.
Swift they are gone for our death carries meaning
Gone to seek fame or the stock-jobber’s hall,
Gone to assess the wild swings of fortune
Gone to get wind of the next easy call.
Roger Baker.
