It was just before dawn
One miserable morning in black ’44.
When the forward commander was told to sit tight
When he asked that his men be withdrawn.
And the generals gave thanks as the other ranks
Held back the enemy tanks for a while.
And the Anziel bridgehead was held for the price
Of a few hundred ordinary lives.
The kind old King George sent Mother a note
When he heard that Father was gone.
It was, I recall, in the form of a scroll
With the gold leaf laid on.
And I found it one day, in a drawer of
Old photographs in the way.
And my eyes still grow dim
To remember His Majesty
Signing in his own rubber snout.
It was dark all around,
There was frost in the ground
When the tigers broke free.
And no one survived from the
Royal Fusiliers Company C.
There were all left behind,
Most of them dead, the rest of them dying.
And that’s how the high command
Took my Daddy from me.
