BY BARRY BASDEN
Mobile Canteen
I served tea to UXB teams. Boring, really, until the day I drove up to a great smoking hole, not a man left.
**
Shelter
Dampness soaks into our bones. Planes, ack-ack, and bombs sound closer. I snap on the BBC’s silly play. We sit, wait, listen.
**
Last Night’s Bombing
We dug out Mum and Dad, laid them beside the others. When the king came to see the damage, some cheered, but I booed.
**
Pilot
Coming out of the pub, we saw him parachute into Ted’s field. We grabbed our pitchforks and ran to make sure he didn’t get out alive.
**
Bombardier
Home on leave, I saw women and children sifting through ruins. First time I thought of my bombs doing the same thing over there.
***
Barry Basden realizes that life is a finite adventure, not a dress rehearsal. Few things surprise him, not even endless war. He especially enjoys a good breakfast and editing Camroc Press Review at http://www.camrocpressreview.com.
A-Minor 