Back at his depot
He couldn’t take it anymore
So he lit up a spliff
And wandered across the square
To a Dishonourable Discharge
And shunted out of there.
A desperate phone call,
The despair in his voice
Mobilising the team
Leaving us no choice
So it's four in the morning
And we’re combing the street
A winter’s morning cold and dark
And we're still on our feet
A veteran has had a flashback
Thinks he’s back in Afghanistan
And he’s set up a checkpoint
And he’s looking for Taliban.
Although it’s unlikely
We’re worried just a bit
He’s young and he’s strong Andhe’s still combat fit
And should anybody be
Out and about this time of day
The consequences could be bad
If they came this way.
There’s a demand for a password
And we’ve found our man
And we talk him down as
Only a fellow veteran can.
Pretty soon he’s at our Centre
And In a nice warm bed.
Tomorrow we’ll start the process
Of sorting out his head.
But, just for now, reassured
That he's safe and alright
The team can fall out
From this badly broken night
Dishonourable Discharge
No attempt made
To understand why
No offer of any aid.
Promises a plenty But talk is cheap
Just one tour too many then
Out on the scrap heap. When last heard from he had been working in the same job for over a year and was doing well. Fingers crossed - with PTSD you just never know.
