A Soldier's Wartime Thoughts



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This book (Please contact Elsa) is lovingly dedicated to the memory of my late father Alexander Barr, author of these poems, and to my late mother Catherine Barr, who was the recipient of them. My father was a Lance Corporal with the Royal Army Service Corps 193 Field Ambulance from 24 July 1941 to 6 January 1946 (Army No T/279063) The majority of these poems were composed while he was stationed at various isolated rural districts of England before going to France and German, and in his own words,  'If they serve no other end, they have helped to while away many a weary hour, and save me from utter melancholy " EIsa J Beattie (nee Barr) ... The booklet contains 18 poems

Written behind the line The day is peaceful, all seems calm The sky a shimmering bluish haze The summer air is sweet with balm The cattle quietly loll and graze. But not far off the fighting rages still The gunfire seldom ever seems to cease 0'erhead the bombers hover for their kill Men fight and strive to win a lasting peace. The foe fights hard, but still our troops advance Each pressing on although his best friend dies Brave lads are falling, life seems a chance The path to peace is paved with sacrifice. But soon the gallant effort must prevail The foe will break, we'll have him on the run 'Tis then our statesmen must not halt or fail There must be no more kindness to the Hun. Complete surrender must be our demand To spare our sons from farther scenes so vile Peace everlasting must reign o'er our land And then we'll count our sacrifice worthwhile



In the first World War you earned your name By valiant deeds, men won you fame The Kaiser's hordes, I've oft heard tell Could ne'er hold back "The ladies from Hell' And now the sons of those fighting men Are putting paid to the Hun again  Where'er they've fought, they've broken through And the Nazis have learned to fear anew. On Normandy's plains they made their start And many a man played a hero's part They faced the cream of the Nazi race And the panzer troops couldn't stand the pace. In France, in Belgium, in Holland too They've forged ahead, one end in view They've always conquered, always will Until the Hun has had his fill. And when at last the fighting's done And final victory has been won The Glorious Div's immortal name Will gain fresh lustre from their fame.