Green Beach – David Capps

A battered wooden jetty, mist wrapped around its base
The landing craft set bow to beach, looks oddly out of place

The shoreline and the shallows, a mud and shingle mix
That tests your balance as you wade, and teaches you new tricks

The sheep shed by the dockside, now full of troops and gear
The houses on the hillside, stand Sturdy yet austere

The icy wind that billows, blow cobwebs from the eyes
The mountains now revealed, against the grey and golden skies

The track leads up the hill side, more dwellings in the lea
Troops in new dug trenches, taking shelter and brewing tea

Piles of stores and ammo, with cam nets set around
The Local settlers tractor, taking men across the ground

Sand bag filled positions, weapons set to fire
Officers giving direction, keeping order in the mire

A hollow ‘tween the hillsides, our place to set up store
Dig in and take the measures, as defense against a war

Masts for communication, the workshops set to go
The scene looks like an ant farm, with its constant to and fro

Two men, five radios, six hours then patrol or digging in
then back onto the net again, the words rewind begin

The constant threat of hostiles, the shout of AIR RAID RED
They scream across the wave tops, quite often tracer led

The darkness lasts forever, the daylight hours are few
The routine automatic, blends the old day into new

The fear of life takes backseat, better here on solid ground
Then that of duty target, bobbing round San Carlos sound

The conflict’s in the moment, at the time it’s so surreal
No battle cries or loud hurrahs, each second’s yours to steal

David Capps