Silence Poem by Brian Hairbottle

The silence is disturbed by the sounds of crickets chirping
time passes so slowly, are our watches working?
surely we should have heard or seen
the sounds of their passing or the glimpse of a sweat sheen,
as they silently continue their war of destruction,
as ours is of defense and protection.

This is our home and country
the land of riches aplenty
where every person has pride and joy
neither person that is black or white considers this a ploy.
We know that this land of ours
has sunshine, where many a hill and dale is covered with flowers
the mountains and streams
inspire feats of strength and dreams.
The beauty of the wide open spaces
brings serenity and peace to so many faces,
there is NO likeness in many other places
that can match or inspire a nation that treasure
this land we call Rhodesia.

So we lay in silence and wait in hope
that we are not going to later find we cannot cope,
with the possibility that a lie was told
where elsewhere there is torture and death leaving bodies to turn cold.
Ever vigilant our roaming eyes search for any sign
have they passed another way to lay a mine?
some poor unsuspecting vehicle or foot
will become nothing more than a pile of soot.

Dawn approaches, we need to leave
our packs, weapons and gear we heave
onto weary shoulders,
for it is time for our soldiers
to fade into the dim dawn mists
before being seen or spotted and being betrayed by lifted fists,
as the locals and collaborators were told to do
telling the gooks where to look for prints of our shoe.

The rocky hill is our best and safest spot
it gives us an advantage to see anything move and a clear shot.
We need to rest and eat
for tonight we will face another beat,
again we will start a new search for the invader
the silent deadly peace betrayer
of this our home land we call Rhodesia.