Stumbling across sludge,
each step took all my energy,
each pained breath could be my last.
I had to keep fighting, Tommy was worse.
I was deaf to the sounds of the shells and screams,
blind to the sight of the wounds and blood.
Tommy and I were the last two pals left,
edging forward and back
in an endless tug of war against our enemy,
both sides tugging on an iron rope.
Tommy’s breathing became shallower,
even he, the cheery one he used to be before,
was losing his own battle.
Wheezing and rattling, shaking with every step,
Tommy still ploughed on, my brave pal.
He looked ahead and grimaced, something was wrong.
He grunted with pain as he pushed me into a shell crater,
knocking the breath out of me.
The ground trembled, or maybe I did,
as the chattering of a machine gun filled my ears,
echoing in my brain.
After what felt like an hour, the chattering stopped,
the all too familiar sound of a fallen man
hitting the ground could be heard through the chaos.
Ears ringing, I emerged from the crater.
I see Tommy, lying still, a metre away.
I dragged my winded body over to him and closed his eyes,
he finally looked at peace.
Light starts to form in my eyes
and I fall into calm.
I’m safe now,
and I remember all of those Tommies still.
