After watching the Pride of Britain Awards I am even more prouder to post this journal. As I was told of yet another soldier's bravery and courage gifted to the others in his squadron. Noel Connolly single handedly tackled a suicide bomber's attempts at killing him and his men. Until last night he did not understand how wonderful a thing he had done and was so moved that people in Britain thought this.

How sad to think that men and women are over there fighting for us and feeling like that. Everywhere with a military base should show their pride in these few who fight for many!

~

A British soldier fighting in Afghanistan has written a pointed poem accusing ministers of 'hiding' when the bodies of fallen troops are returned to the UK.


The scathing verses, written from the front line, attacks politicians for avoiding the ever frequent ceremonies held when the coffins arrive back on British soil.



Entitled Repatriation, the poem is circulating among UK troops in Helmand Province and across the world after it was posted on Facebook.



The poem tells of an unnamed 'hero' whose body is flown home and driven through Wootton Bassett in Wiltshire where crowds gather to pay their respects.



Its author Staff Sergeant Andy McFarlane, 47, who is serving with the Territorial Army, writes that there is 'no sign' of politicians because they prefer to stay away.



The father-of-two from Bicester, Oxfordshire, wrote another poem called Sunset Vigil after the deaths of eight soldiers in the space of 24 hours last week.





Repatriation



The leviathan of the sky does land
In England's green and pleasant land.
Its cargo more precious than gold
The body of a hero, bold.



Once the giant's engines stopped
The cargo ramp is gently dropped
Carried by six on shoulders true
The hero is saluted by the crew.



The coffin draped in Union Jack
Is slowly carried out the back.

Out of the dark and into light
Slowly down the ramp and to the right..



The six approach the hearse all black
And place the hero gently in the back.
The six then turn and march away
Their duty has been done this day.



Politicians usually have much to say
No sign of them near here this day.
They hide away and out of danger,
Much easier if the hero is a stranger.



The hearse with its precious load
Moves slowly out onto the road.
The floral tributes line the route
While comrades snap a smart salute.



At the edge of a Wiltshire town
The cortege slows its pace right down.
The streets are packed, many deep,
Some throw flowers, most just weep.



The crowd have come to say farewell,
The church bell rings a low death knell.
Regimental standards are lowered down
As the hero passed through the town.



The cortege stops and silence reigns
The townsfolk feel the family's pain.
The nations' flag lowered to half mast
Our brave hero is home at last.