Tag: Western Desert Campaign

In the Desert Today (selected verses)

  What did I see in the desert to-day, In the cold, pale light of dawn? I saw the Honeys creaking out, Their brave, bright pennants torn; And heads were high against the sky, And faces were grim and drawn.

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Charles Westcott

CHARLES WESTCOTT was a sapper in the Royal Engineers, laying and clearing mines.  At the 2nd Battle of Alamein he was responsible for clearing the path for the tanks to break out.  In 2012 he visited the battlefield again for the

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Morning after the Barrage at El Alamein

There’s a Devil in the dawn – Horrific spawn of last night’s hideous moon, That hung above the gun’s inferno And smiled on men who died too soon. There’s a Devil in the dawn – See him fawn on those

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Gordon Wallace

Gordon Wallace, from Australia – a proud supporter of his country and the Empire, he signed up as a volunteer.  He was a sergeant in the 2/15th Infantry Battalion, Australian 9th Division.  The infantry experienced some of the worst casualties.

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M.E. Medley

  Everywhere Radios blare, Sordid street and city square; Wailing music thin and high, Jungle rhythm from the sky; Stench and squalor, Tom-tom beat, Blinding glare, and plaguing heat; Howling hell of every breed, Every colour, every creed, Indigo Nubian,

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Battle Interlude

The ground shuddered, the canvas shook, In the darkness flash on flash Swept from left to right And right to left; One here, another one there, One this side, then that side,~ Ever faster.  Now A dim horizon is a

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Desert Warfare

A universe of space, infinite sands, Unbroken line to mark off cloudless blue. A shimmering heat that plucks the very life Of withered thorns which strive and stretch out shoots Groping in vain to take a hold on life. The

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Harry Garrett

     HARRY GARRETT, GUNNER  Harry Garrett, 96, was a sergeant in the 51st Highland Division, in charge of a gun team – a dangerous job, he was blown to unconsciousness several times, and his best friend, Ebenezer Lee, killed

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A Soldier – His Prayer

(This anonymous poem was blown by the wind into a slit trench at El Agheila, Libya, during a heavy bombardment). Stay with me, God. The night is dark, The night is cold: my little spark Of courage dies. The night

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