At The Front

Note: "The figure in the photograph is clad in Army fatigues, boots and helmet, lying on his back in peaceful repose, folded hands holding a military cap. Except for a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, he could be asleep.

But he is not asleep; he is dead. And this is not just another fallen GI; it is Ernie Pyle, the most celebrated war correspondent of World War II " - source USA Today  (here)

Staccato bursts of gunfire

Intimidating to the neighborhood

And bombs in the distance

Frightening to those under siege

Melodious to the marauders

Embedded with a detachment

Seeing action before his own eyes

The newsman and photographer

Unarmed, untrained, unaccounted for

Who could only sigh and hope

That the next sniper’s target

Would not have him at the cross- hairs

As did some of his colleagues

Who had been there earlier

Unfortunate enough to be seen

And later picked up still in camouflage

But wet, bathed red with his own blood

Unsung, unknown but just another

To add to the growing number

Of the forgotten victims of human conflict

Who dared to be in the front

Just so for the benefit of those

Back home sitting sipping coffee

Comfortably in front of the idiot box

Waiting eagerly for the latest

From the newsmen with pads or cameras

Whose numbers are increasingly

Brought back home in body-bags!

Written for Theme Thursday with prompt - Bed - and Real Toads Open Link Monday

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