Amazing War Poem From An Unknown Friend....

Remember the war poet Keith Douglas, killed in Normandy in 1944, aged 24.

Three weeks gone and the combatants gone
returning over the nightmare ground
we found the place again, and found
the soldier sprawling in the sun.

The frowning barrel of his gun
overshadowing. As we came on
that day, he hit my tank with one
like the entry of a demon.

Look. Here in the gunpit spoil
the dishonoured picture of his girl
who has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnicht.
in a copybook gothic script.

We see him almost with content,
abased, and seeming to have paid
and mocked at by his own equipment
that's hard and good when he's decayed.

But she would weep to see today
how on his skin the swart flies move;
the dust upon the paper eye
and the burst stomach like a cave.

For here the lover and killer are mingled
who had one body and one heart.
And death who had the soldier singled
has done the lover mortal hurt.

When I was just a young boy, I played with swords and guns, and I dreamed of the day I'd become a soldier.
And kill all of the enemy, my country 'tis of thee.
I sing this anthem sadly, wont you hear me.
I watched the cannons blazing, on the giant silver screen.
The swastikas were burning and the hero was me.
The general gave the order, gladly I obeyed.
But the movie faded quickly all at once today.
And now I stand alone with the charges made, no where to run, not a place to hide.
We're sad little children playing grown-up games.
Guess the time has come, the damage has been done.
Stray dogs that live on the highway, walk on three legs.
Cause they learn to slow to get the message.
Just like the Indians in the early days.
Battles lost and won, yet it still goes on.
It's just another ballad for soldier.
I had no understanding 'till I saw my mother cry, when they told how many babies I had killed that night.
A dozen color photographs inside of a magazine, told the morbid story like a movie screen.
But I was not the hero I thought myself to be, movies are much different than reality.
The general was convicted to get off of the hook, but the President might free me for the chance I took.
And we all stand alone when the charge is made, sad way to live, what a way to die.
We're all little children playing grown-up games, can we burn the gun before the next time comes.
Stray dogs that live on the highway walk on three legs, they move to slow to get the message.
Give up and win, that's all I have to say, we haven't really won till all the fightin' done, and there are no more ballads for the soldiers.