Ballade of the guard commander
II
At dusk the sun sets fiery red
behind the bushes
where in beauty it brings tranquillity to the bush-veldt.
There are guards that I inspect as commander
where they stand neatly in a platoon
and I look at them one after the other and then right through them
walk to the guardroom on top of the shooting tower
and in the camp in the operational aria
every thing is in order, the guards are capable.
Early in the evening another officer
comes and plays a game of chess
and we drink icy glasses of beer
but when it gets later their is silence and peace
as if it’s just another evening in a thousand
and for some time I am still attentive to my duties
until the shadows draw out long against the walls,
my non commissioned officer starts to yawn
and I lie down on my camping bed
telling him to take charge, while I get tired
and sleep closes my eyes,
when an explosion wakes me.
II
Somewhere in the camp another bomb explodes,
I grab my firearm instruct the shooting tower to start firing
and fear is in me – that the general is going to come.
Tracers cut tracks through the night
torches are fired into the sky
and outside it’s bright as day
and we fire into the bushes
while I cannot determine where the enemy is
and do not really know where the firefight had started.
In the camp another bomb explodes,
I see a trooper throwing a hand grenade
and I am totally astounded
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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