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