Ordinary men in troubled times
On decks we stand and cry,
Fearful, afraid, uncertain
yet all prepared to die
Landing craft pitch and heave
bump and ride the tide
Ramps grind then fall open;
the gates of hell flung wide.
Young soldiers all, we surge and run
through swarms of coppered lead,
bullets fizz and fly, they pass
to summon forth the dead
heavy slap, then comrades fall
they die – their luck all run
shells hammer, percussive shock
on chest and gut they drum
Push forward now and upwards
beyond that hellish maw
the sights we see, the horrors get
upon that Stygian shore
On tortured lung we reach the ridge
Foes die or dropping arms they run
Is it Death that scythed the beach
Or just some mothers son
Seventy years of washing
Those waves on foreign shore
Can’t wipe away nor diminish
That courageous battle corps
Now serried ranks of gravestones
Stand tall and fair and proud
Spilled the blood of heroes
They faced theirs fear unbowed.
Stand tall my fellow freemen
And shed ye not a tear
These men, these boys died fighting
So we would have no fear…
FlashLights 