Far Too Many Times I Have Baked In Hot Armour (Fay Slimm Form) Poem by Gert Strydom

Too many times I have baked hot in
armour,
drove in long army convoys on the way
to hell,
had to attend in-training as a game,
before
war erupted deadly into slaughter,
where faces
of citizens numb in shock, innocent
looked,
at how war destroys everything, without
arms or
a leg, while they lived on through it
in pain,
without hope, still trying hard to exist
planting
maize, chasing scared bucks to a kraal while we
burst through,
at speed, firing at fleeing enemy
chasing,
in hot-pursuit operations of just
killing.