I remember the day because the weather had turned, and the frost came early that year.
And hard on the heels of the anxious wind, A soldier and friend should appear.
I remember the green of their uniforms, and the fat on their unlined cheeks.
As they stood before my camera lens, and said that they left in a week.
A boy and his friend, who had lied, it would seem, neither was more than a lad.
And proud of themselves they stood before me, for pride was all that they had.
They were awkward those two in their army greens, doing their noble best.
Ready to tackle the enemy, and keen to be put to the test.
I’ll never know what happened to them, after they left me that day.
And though the boys were no one to me, I cried as they walked away.