07/07/2026
The Returned Man
As a warrior sent to battlefields, I marched where duty led,
My brothers stood beside me there, while death flew overhead.
Through dust and smoke we held the line where dark blood rivers ran,
And trusted in each other’s steel, bayonet held in hand
But when at last I laid my shield upon my homeland’s shore,
I never dreamt the coward’s blow would strike me to the floor.
The papers cried we’d done a deed most foul beneath Afghan sun,
Though every rule had shifted before the fight was done.
The lawyers spoke of whom to shoot, yet none had stood the test
Of knowing foe from frightened soul with rifle held to chest.
They talked of war from polished rooms,
where safe men draw their pay,
While we who bore the burden there were left to hang away.
As a soldier sworn to serve the flag, both true and square and straight,
I gave my youth and honest blood unto the hands of State.
Yet when the guns at last fell still and all the smoke had cleared,
The generals took their medals home while none for us appeared.
Hand them in you guilty boys, for some crime that you have done,
Generals don’t hand in medals, their just one of that gang
That sets you up to sacrifice and leave you all to hang.
That gang dined in comfortable halls with speeches brave and grand,
While those who fought their bloody wars came home to shifting sand.
And when the storm of conflict reaches doorstep causing strife,
I found the war rode home with me causing chaos in my life.
I am a husband, father too, with children at my knee,
Yet all the grief and bitter blame came crashing down on me.
I asked if those who sent us forth would stand beside me then,
But silence answered from the ranks of Generals and of powerful men.
The pollies and the journos too all gathered for the feast,
And lawyers and keyboard warriors joined the cry, like jackals scenting meat.
They’d never heard the bullets crack nor seen a good mate fall,
Yet judged the deeds of fighting men from safe behind a wall.
So now I sit beside the fire while time and twilight dim the flame,
And think upon the price a soldier pays for war,
the never-ending pain.
For nations cheer their soldiers loud when drums and bugles ring,
But turn away from broken men when peace forgets the sting.
