On a dusty hot day in the desert sands
He looks in shock at his hands
Unsure of what just occurred
It all seems like a blur
For first blood he did take
On his first tour that day
A numbness he does feel
As he took his first kill
No training prepared him for this
Something inside now very amiss
Taken from him, torn away
Leaving him cold, full of rising self-hate
But he continues on doing as ordered
To save the weak from those that murder
Never really counting the cost
To himself or comrades, humanity sometimes lost
For he’s been trained to fight for others
Those that have sisters and brothers
The innocent and weak who can’t fend for themselves
From those who put these people through hell
Published by
Darren Greenidge
I'm a thinker, listener, a "question's pretty much everything" type of person. A seeker of knowledge, always restless, yet seeks the calm in life.
I love writing in all forms and am in the process of completing a number of ongoing projects. I love the craft of writing and the possibilities it holds. A magic carpet through the mind. I love pretty much all creative arts, music, film and theatre the leading ones.
Born in Hertfordshire in England, my family Irish, Welsh and English, I currently reside in Edinburgh, in Scotland. I'm drawn to coastal and mountain regions where I like to go to think and draw inspiration from. Ireland is a place that's dear to me, and I try to get back to see family and friends as much as possible.
My interests are wide and broad, too many to mention here, but history, archaeology, criminology, music and film are just some of those things I love.
I hope you enjoy my ramblings on here as that's what they are really. I'll let my fingers do the ''talking...''
View all posts by Darren Greenidge
Caliburnus Rises 
You’re right – no training prepares one for that first kill
Soldiers get a lot of bad press in my opinion but they go through a lot too from what some have told me, the rest have said inbetween lines. Must be a hard existence doing what they do at times.