Liberation – by Dorothy Isabel Cooke
Dog fights, the Hun hit
Downed.
Our brave boys winged, going down.
Even the wind did not breath
but held its breath.
And hoped against hope a parachute would open.
D-Day, liberation, beginning.
Giving hope to millions.
But what a waste.
Cut down in their prime
Just boys.
Many parachuted in to flames that claim them,
Or water to deep to save them.
Their parachutes condemn them.
All to young to die.
The soldiers laden with too much equipment waded in too deep.
There was only one outcome,
To heavy to swim they drowned.
All this carnage.
An enemy following a mad man’s dream.
But boys on both sides just the same.
War a deadly game.
The ridge taken.
Then on the morrow forsaken.
Stalemate as bullets rained.
Liberation, the beginning of the end of a mad man’s dream.
Snipers hidden in fox holes,
The allies have command of the air.
Then the enemy picked off one by one.
So much carnage.
Young men sacrificed for freedom
Heros each and every one.
I never knew war born in 1951.
I am so grateful to a generation for allowing me to taste freedom.
To spread my wings and fly,
To be me.
Lest we ever forget all the young sons condemned to die.
Remembering their heroic courage,
Obeying commands,
Even knowing their destiny.
As they now fly with the angels.
We are so proud that they saved countless souls from a mad man’s dream.
A man that caused misery,
And condemned millions to die.
While peace is finally realised, we now shake hands as comrades,
Remembering young men on both sides.
Consigning a mad man’s dream to history.