(Brooker) 

Called up to Camberley in '39 
To play his part on the French front line 
He was full of hope, overflowing with tears 
He'd been on the earth barely nineteen years 
but he was willing 

Sailed across the Channel for to meet his foe 
Marched from Le Havre to Forge-les-Eaux 
There were sounds of battle that assailed his ears 
They moved that night with the taste of fear 
to the killing 

Got dug down in Deauville 
His young life on the line 
Had time to think about her 
His first love he'd left behind 

The battle lost 
at heavy cost 
To life and limb 
but not for him 
He was caught 
and marched away 
to darker days 
a prisoner 

He walked to Poland 
with thousands of others 
Their common plight 
would make them brothers 
For years of cold and fear 
and lonely tears 
for four long years 
The Allies came 
to liberate 
They found him in rags 
In a pitiful state 
But alive 
Taken at the very start 
Not freed until the last 

Lest we forget the sacrifice 
That young men make for what seems right 
We lose them 
confuse them 
abuse them 

Young rose waiting on the English shore 
To hold her boy, now a man of twenty-four 
Hard of hearing, no feeling 
What do we know of pain and healing? 
Hard of hearing, hard of hearing.