Boomer rang:
he won’t be back
for Christmas.
On patrol
in Basra with
twenty five
others. Just
another six
months on
a lead and
harness sniffing
for roadside
bombs and high
explosives in
Basra town
with all the
other desert
nitro hounds.
Boomer’s sad.
He takes someone
else around
now. Didn’t smell
The Molotov
that someone
threw at Dave,
who had only
two stripes.
Bob’s OK
for a sergeant
but it’s not
the same, Dave
was dead nice for
a human.
