Arriving At A Military Camp Poem by Gert Strydom

The war went well today
and they say on the radio
that a group of terrorists
who crossed the border were shot

before they could sabotage some farmers
or plant landmines and run back
over the strip line

and after being called up for a camp,
being flown in by aeroplane
and driven to my unit
I am already weary

and at the camp
after being barbered, issued with kit
and rifles, checked by some medics

we have a meal from ration packs,
clean our rifles
and lie on narrow beds
writing some letters

and tomorrow the unit commander
will tell us about a battle to be fought
and an enemy to be taught a lesson
by real men or so he will call us

and until then we are oblivious
to danger, to hardship and whatever lies ahead
and act like civilians, in a mixed group of officers,
non-commissioned officers and men

bragging about our jobs, our women and our lives
and someone reads aloud out of the Bible
and prays for every one of us.

[Strip line -> A cleared buffer zone at the border.]