Do ghostly feet still march where there was a barrack's square;
Does the shade of Kai Ross continue in search of Colin Ware;
Does Glasby still sleep wherever he can lay his head
On those occasions he doesn't make it back to his bed?
Is the perimeter still guarded, do those dogs still patrol?
They do in my memory where there the place is whole.
I'm sure if I listened, and the wind was just right,
Ghostly voices would drift to me through the night
On the road back from Effeld, full of good cheer
Munching Elli's sarnies atop of Bitburger beer.
By the magic of the internet, courtesy of the veterans site,
I went back there for a look see just the other night.
The quarry me and Simpson explored those long weekends,
Occasionally tempting along others of our group of friends,
Has been turned into a yachting lake, there's a photo to see.
It might have been somewhere else, it meant so little to me.
Nothing I could recognise, nothing looked as it had been
Except it was still beautiful, just a totally different scene.
Somewhere out there is the Old Mill
With the little stream gurgling on still?
The camp site is a golf course, most of the buildings gone
I'd like to think it was because the world had moved on
But no, the wars haven't come to an end
We just now have some different friends.
When I go back there to see it, as I shall before I die,
Take one last long walk under that friendly blue sky
Down through the woods, to old remembered places
Peeling back years looking for old friend's faces
Maybe in some form I'll find the Chief and Elli's bar
It won't be the same, these places very seldom are.
But maybe I'll drink a final Pils and try
Say thank you to that village before I say goodbye;
Just one of many squaddies passed through that place
But I still remember every special friendly face;
For all the joy it gave me, for all those past friends
From that part of my life that long ago came to an end.
Does a ghostly Mid shift set room
Nearly at that dread dozing stage
Quiver to attention at Baxie's
Yelled command Over the Page
Do the birds still sing at early breaking light
Heralding the end of another long long night