Axis & Allies - damowords

The Last Grenadier
An old man hobblʹd with his great‐grandsons,
Breathʹd in the dust of the past century,
The distant growl of the Hunʹs howling guns
Awakening his vivid memory;
Tho’ barely sane,
Driven half‐blind with age,
He shufflʹd his frail frame onto that famous stage.
Tween Hougoumont & La Haye‐Saint
His raging nostalgia veerʹd,
Tward that panoramic lion
All his stumbling footsteps veerʹd,
Fifty thousand phantoms upon
Hades ʹrison appearʹd,
Dogs braying fearful from the nearby farms,
All round resounds the mighty clash of arms.
He watchʹd his father hard impalʹd
Upon the scarlet square,
& as he wailʹd the Gaurdsmen failʹd,
His Grand Pa‐Pa led there,
Shielding his cowering grand‐child whilst bayoneted bare.
Waterloo
June 18th
1915
Gallipoli
Kitchenerʹs Churchillian conjecture
Brings battle before Constantinople,
Champagne thrill of Achaean adventure,
The gentle savage, the savage gentle;
“Where are you from”
ʺMelbourne...ʺ ʺWhy are you hereʺ
Senses of soldiers numb led captive to the rear.
The soul of Rupert Brooke releasʹd,
Packs poetry for the trip,
Byronic sortie to the East
& mosquito‐punctured lip,
By volumes his visions increasʹd,
Death climb’d aboard the ship,
For what seemʹd a tayle, epic & Trojan,
Now slowly sluiced with tragical poison.
From sandy cliffs to hills jagged
Sloping from Chunuk Blair,
Up ridge ragged, long trail hagger’d,
Thro hot, wilderness air,
Bluce Slater from Australia spat bullets evʹrywhere.
Turkey
August
1915