I Was Only Eighteen Poem by Gert Strydom

Mom did not see the passing out parade,
twelve hundred kilometres to home and back
is a long run, but she did visit me in a military hospital

and border duty wasn't anybody's choice
but by train, plane, truck or armoured car
the military got you there

where the sun was scorching,
some nights were cold
and you're life was every day on hold

and patrols could be great strolls
through the veldt, the bush
with gnats flying around your head

or moments of life and death,
with pain in every breath
and I was only eighteen

saw some men blown to bits
was half concussed with
rockets exploding near to me

heard bullets whine over my head,
shot some enemies to stay living,
split trees with rifle grenades

and the army was great fun
especially if you hopped in and out
of choppers every single day

and knew that your time was running out
and still I am here
but changed to someone else
who is more of a soldier than a human being.

[Poet's note: A chopper is a word used for a helicopter in the South African Defence Force.]