The longest Mile

A Poem by matelotrod

This was written when we were losing war hero's and I thought a tribute should be given to our Fallen Hero's

The Longest Mile.

In Wiltshire, the county where I was born, there lies a little town named Wootton Bassett. It has become the gateway to Britain for our returning fallen heroes. Wootton Bassett did not plan it that way, the town was not attention seeking or trying to bask in the reflected glory of our troops. It is a town that projects respect and pride in the loyal services of our forces. The losses are heart-breaking, and both families and the public, from all walks of life, gather to pay their last respects to the returning heroes. I wanted to dedicate a poem to the town of Wootton Bassett without detracting from the role of our Troops in the trouble spots around the world. I feel however, that the name Wootton Bassett is now synonymous with Troops; therefore a dedication to one would automatically include the other.

The Longest Mile
A Wiltshire town named Wootton Bassett, has become the county's finest asset,
A place that's steeped in dignity and pride.
It is where our fallen soldiers are carried on their comrade's shoulders.
To the point where they begin their final ride.

The residents have come to dread the sound of aircraft overhead,
It portends a cloak of mourning o'er the town,
The word is very quickly spread; the population bows its head
And shops and businesses respectfully shut down.

The mourning crowd that quietly stands, while grieving families clasp their hands
Will share the loss of fallen heroes passing by.
To keep us safe they made a stand, they fought and died in foreign lands
They deserve honour and respect from you and I.

The cortège appears and silence falls, even the song birds seem to pause
Regimental banners are lowered slowly to the ground.
Veterans salute and clench their jaws, remembering their fight for another cause
As the flag draped coffins pass without a sound.

Tears are wiped from smarting eyes; the town re-convenes with heavy sighs
Another day infused with pride and sorrow.
The people heave heart-rending sighs, glance apprehensively at the skies
And pray to God there are no inbound flights tomorrow.

Rod Broomham. (c)