Poetry

THE HIDDEN WAR

By 8th August 2007December 9th, 2019No Comments

The operative lay watching
The dew of early Dawn
The smell of farmhouse cattle
Alone and so forlorn

Three days in this position
A hide just up the hill
Waiting for his target
So patient and so still

Just listening and watching
For goings to and fro
Peeing in his bottle
So as not to mark the snow

“ The Emerald Isle “ they call it
Not emerald now, just white
A stark bare Lunar landscape
Revealed by first full light

A light within the window
An open door aglow
A warmth spills out into the yard
The heat he’d never know

A man framed in the doorway
A dog pushed out to freeze
It lifts its head, alerted
Sniffing in the breeze

It looks right at me, can it see ?
It starts to walk toward me
The doorway is now empty
Now just the dog and me

The handler taught me well
In practise and in theory
” Just curl up in a ball
And act like you’re a fairy ”

Time to put it to the test
Show that I’m no threat
I tuck my head in, close my eyes
My face all damp with sweat

The dog it comes and sniffs me
It cocks its hairy limb
And empties out its bladder
No threat I was to him

God bless that old instructor
Way back in seventy-eight
“ Let dogs become your master,
Just let them dominate ”

Satisfied, the dog walks off
Toward the farmhouse door
Gliding through the snowflakes
Paw prints on the floor

“ Abort ! Abort ! “ rings in my ear
An earpiece oh so small
The job’s called off, another waste
Me freezing near the wall

Three days wasted, cancelled out
Another time perhaps
The target was just lucky
So near his final gasp

Tomorrow to another task
Maybe on, or off
But this is what I’m paid for
I shouldn’t really scoff

Death means nothing to me now
The targets know the danger
Perhaps he’ll die tomorrow
Stalked by one more stranger

Back to barracks now I go
To drink my fill of Whisky
Might be time to pack this in
Do something not so risky

Deep down I know that I’d be back
The danger is a drug
I’d crave the lonely blood rush
The Adrenalin I’d hug

Tonight I’ll drown my sorrows
I’ll have a little moan
‘cause I know I’ll be back out there
My job, my life, my home

Tom Mcgreevy

Author Tom Mcgreevy

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