Joolz Musket, Fife And Drum
»I wouldn't say he is the perfect soldier, m' Lord
But he is a very good soldier
Admittedly, his record isn't spotless
But there's nothing that cannot
Be accounted for by youthful high spirits
And he is very young, barely twenty
Very fit, bright, proved to be
Extremely amenable to training
There o no evidence of psychological disturbance
However, he can give no definite explanation
Or reasons for his actions
So now, with your permission, my Lord
I should like to call the boy to the witness box.«
»I don't know why I did it, Sir
I think we had some stupid arguement
In camp the night before
Over a card game: we played cards a lot, Sir
It's the boredom, you see
Mind you, it's enough to make anyone ratty
Listening to that shelling
And those wogs killing each other
Day in, day out; and nothing for us to do
Since we're there to 'keep the peace'
Bit of a joke that, Sir
If you don't mind me saying so
We were all well and truly
Stalled off, Sir, shut up all the time...
Anyhow I think Smithie said I'd cheated
But I hadn't, Sir
And he wouldn't leave off
All that night, needling me
And the nerd day, on patrol, Sir
I told him to pack it in
Or I'd let him have it...
I didn't mean it, but I was upset
Then the other two just laughed
And said I was all mouth
And always had been
It's funny, Sir, I remember really clear
How hot and dusty it was
And I could hear in my head
Sergeant Becker's voice, from combat training
Shouting, shouting
»Kill the bastard!, kill
You little f..cking nancy boy...«
And I just held my finger on the trigger
What happened after that was like a dream...«