Story 62 - Short Stories and Poems

By Tony Boland

 

Original published in Reunion Booklet held in Brisbane 1988.  

Short Story 1

Short Story 2

Short Story 3

Poem 1 - Memories

Why can't I forget Vietnam, I have been back twenty years,
But the sights are still in the back of my eyes and the sounds ring in my ears,

And at times I still have nightmares which really shouldn't be,
For I was Signal Corps and not the Infantry,

And how can I let anyone know what I am going through,
They couldn't begin to understand unless they were suffering too.

 

How can I accept the fact, our efforts were all in vain,
That if we had never gone there, we would have caused a lot less pain,
So as you live a life of peace with freedom your life to plan,
Spare a thought for the boys who fought and who can't forget Vietnam

                               

 

Poem 2 - The Signaller

They never fought in the front line but they had a place to fill,
By ensuring support was always on call with their aerials on "the hill",
And when on operations with the grunts they walked the road,
With batteries and radios in their packs thay carried their share of the load.

 

 

In harbour secure or on the march the comms they did maintain,
Cause the boys were keen and knew their job and gave no cause in complain,

 And sometimes to give 're-bro' in the planes they went aboard,
Though many unaware of the job they did, it brought its own reward.

  

No roar of guns or beat of wings or rattle of armoured tracks,
To announce the sigs were on the job with radios on their backs,
But there's many a soldier in trouble had reason to raise a cheer,

                                                                                                              
By the words coming over the air waves, 'receiving you loud and clear',

Yes I was an Op in 104 and Vietnam was no lark,
And I'm proud of the mates I served with of drives, cooks and clerks,
Of Officers, Sigs and Sergeants who lived up to the creed of the Corps,
Communications in all conditions provided - SWIFT and SURE.

 

                    

 

Poem 3 - Mates

I received a list the other day through the mail it arrived,
It spoke of mates who are still "away" and of some who have not survived.

Well Pat was old when we went over there, he was forty if a day,
But as I look back from forty-five I see an innings cut short of play.

 

Steve died the year we returned in a car he met his end,
Now so many more have joined him, boys who we once called friends,

There's Shorty and Terry, two Harry's and Gerry and Big Bruce gone as well,
And they're just the ones we know of; are there others who've rung the bell?

Did they see the Welcome Home Parade or die with their eyes downcast?
If only we could have seen them to confort them at the last.

 

 

"Sadly missed by your mates."

              

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