At age sixteen he enlisted,
A chance to see the world.
With his height and size he easily passed for eighteen.
It's your decision......his parents said,
Happy to see their son in uniform, but sad to see him go.
He could get hurt or even killed.
Even his little sister was proud but sad too.
After the call in December, he left for training.
A novice gunner to England he sailed and took his place back of the riflemen
Protecting the advance against the Germans.
The war was frightening and loud.
The trenches were scary at night.
Oh God, my buddy is down......he is bleeding and in torturous pain.
I can't do anything for him.......he dies.
The fight continues, the enemy surrenders.
he leaves for home.....a huge welcome.
In his mind...all he remembers is the look on his buddy's face.
Every day he thinks about the war.
It hurts.
What a price he has paid for our freedom!
Nice poem:) Thank you for reminding me how important all of these men (and women) were...we really should never forget! My grandfather, until the day he died, couldn't talk about the war without crying. So many did, and still do, pay such a "price for our freedom". Cheers!
@originalworks
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