Whose War

His hand shoots up in smart salute
he bids me, wish him well.
I watch unwillingly, a mute,
this young man bound for hell.

His beret, carefully askew,
the boots, a gleaming black
his weapon slung and shiny new;
a jacket made for flak..

This is no sports day for the school
no football match, no game
for this trip, there is but one rule;
do not get killed or maimed!

Crowds clap and cheer and shout; 'Hurray!
it's off to war, we go'.
Untried heroes march away,
to meet determined foe.

And time will tell, depending on
which side, your heart doth lie
who was right or who was wrong...
but still the young men die.

The Politicians calmly stroke
their nibs, through well planned notes
of heartfelt sorrow, they'll invoke,
when comes the time for votes.