BLOOD PACT

 Based on a true story - a part of our Australian history.

BLOOD PACT ..  Maureen Clifford ©  The #ScribblyBarkPoet

 

https://soundcloud.com/maureen-clifford-scribblybark-poetry/a-blood-pact

 

Two larrikin lads from the outback near Bourke

one a ringer and one a gun shearer,

both shared the same mother but had different dads,

Get Mums ire up – they’d reason to fear her.

Two brothers, best mates, both were good in a stoush

pick on one be prepared to fight two.

Thick as thieves and like shadows this tearaway pair

were good blokes to have there in a blue.

 

The worst blue of all then came to their country

and word went out over the land.

We need the strong young blokes to answer the call

to sign up and give us a hand.

They came from the cities, the outback and scrub.

From the farms and the hamlets and towns.

All were willing to don uniforms of khaki   

and head overseas, for Europe bound.

 

No prizes for guessing that Joe and Frank went

and both left Bourke with their mother’s blessing,

She knew that her boys would not refuse the call

and would go anyway – no use stressing.

They sailed on the Aeneas from Circular Quay

on the twentieth day of December,

all full of high spirits and brave bonhomie

‘twas a day Aussie Mums would remember.

 

They’d been there a month in the thick of the fight

when one day Frank laconically said

“It’s not the adventure we thought it would be,

there’s a fair chance we might end up dead.

I’ll make a pact with you – you’ll know what I mean

when I say that should push turn to shove

we should do the right thing Joe – not suffer in pain;

meet our maker, the bloke up above.

 

I’ll do it for you.  Will you do it for me

if we know there’s no cards left to play?”

 Young Joe looked hard at him, gave a nod and winked

then said ‘‘Mate you read my mind today”

So, a pact was settled – no more need be said

they got on with the fighting and war.

Boys heartily sickened by what they both did

and the stench and the blood and the gore.

 

The cold was relentless, the rats and flies thick,

endless nights loud with onslaught of war.

The Very light flares lit the battleground there

and it looked like a slaughterhouse floor.

Up and over the top, brother Frank led the charge

to the wire through the guns enfilade,

around them men screamed, a harsh discordant sound

as they ran and they fell and died hard.

 

No time now to falter, no time to look back

and no time to console fallen mates.

It was mayhem and murder and madness as well,

and each man there resigned to his fate.

But somehow despite all the carnage they saw

the two boys survived both unharmed.

They’d suffered from trench foot, were riddled with lice

but it seems that their lives were still charmed.

 

They never spoke much of the things they had seen

‘twas a picture that both men would bear

in silence, both fought with their devils inside

and both men sought for solace in prayer.

They lived a good life in their country of birth

and married two sisters I heard.

Both bought property somewhere outback near Louth

a quiet place where the wind barely stirred.

 

A trunk in the attic held letters to home,

faded photos of good-looking blokes

in khaki and spit polished boots and slouch hats,

posed on camels, enjoying a joke.

A diary was found and the story within

bought a tear to the finder’s blue eyes

as he read of the war his Great Grandfather fought

and no words could his horror disguise.

 

He read of the slaughter, the terror, the fear,

of whole villages razed to the ground.

The shortage of food and medical supplies,

the mass graves for those that they found.

He read of men cruelly entrapped on the wire,

how they sometimes lay caught there for days,

with their cries getting faint as weakened they died.

Each man fought his battle malaise.

 

 

The clock now had moved on full circle it seems

 ninety years have passed by - come and gone,

 once more there were two lads from somewhere near Bourke

and one of those boys was his son,

who wore the khaki and would follow the flag

to a country across foreign seas.

Two cousins – best mates, who were good in a stoush.

Keep them safe God he prayed, on his knees

 

Maureen Clifford ©  08/12