Volleys Of Shots Rang Out As We Stormed Poem by Gert Strydom

Volleys of shots rang out as we stormed,
the trenches that were meandering formed,
in the distance snipers were firing from a wall
into the cover of the nearest ditch we did fall.

A trooper next to me suddenly smiled
and everywhere around us was death’s smell,
the winter sun was very weak but mild
while our ears sang from a mortar shell.

In succession into the trench we did leap,
I fired from the hip from the point of entry,
the light machinegun did chattering sweep
in a enemy camp in a bordering country

where as soldiers we had parachuted in
and a passing bullet burnt my arm’s skin.