Page 29 - Chiron Calling Spring 2019
P. 29

From Barrie Davey
  Tich RAVC
The year is, Nineteen Hundred and Thirteen.
From a Gypsies, mongrel dog, I have been weaned.
I am twelve weeks old, a crossbred bitch.
The army found me, they call me Titch.
I am loved at last and have found a home.
No more, will I be injured, with a stone.
Fed 6 times a week, it really is great.
No food on Sunday, that, I hate.
My job is not difficult, it really is fun.
I’m not even frightened, by the bang of a gun.
My handler adores me, trains me and shows me how.
The only stipulation, I must, do it now.
I find it, I carry it, to where I am told.
My only reward, is a cuddle and hold.
War, War, War is a word I hear a lot.
I don’t know the meaning, I don’t give a jot.
Over the water we go, a long distance away.
Now is the time, I must earn my pay.
My handler, shouts’, “Titch away”, to my other handler, I run. Only two hundred yards, it seems like fun.
Messages I must carry, from end to end.
Through mud and craters, my way I wend.
Guns are barking, shells are falling, round my head.
The message must be delivered, my handler said.
This I must do, all through the day.
I suddenly realise, this isn’t just play.
i am plastered in mud/ I cannot get clean.
I whimper and whine, no one understands, what I mean. My job comes first, I know that is right.
But can I keep going, all through the night.
My head I lay down, I really must sleep.
But the fleas bite and round my body creep.
I itch, I scratch, not a good night.
I really must look, a miserable sight.
There’s plenty of work, to be done, it really is so.
And across that mud and barbed wire, I must go.
I am torn by the wire, in many a place.
On my body and legs, a lot in the face.
My good life has gone, I wish, I weren’t here.
But work must go on, now, I know fear.
My handler looks after me, as best as he can.
Worrying about me, since this fighting began.
The time has come, I must go once more.
Messages to deliver, it’s now a big chore.
I suddenly fall over, I’ve been shot in the spine.
My legs won’t keep moving, not, everything’s fine.
I whimper, I cry, for attention I bark.
This message, won’t, be delivered, I’m alone in the dark.

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