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Great Writing - Home > Poetry > Infantry Training on Hipswell Moor
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Poetry
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| Infantry Training on Hipswell Moor | |
| By CliffBowes | ||||||||||||
| 18 June 2007 | ||||||||||||
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Risedale Beck is a small stream that runs across Hipswell Moor, an army training ground, through Catterick Garrison and the village of Hipswell where I live, joining up with the River Swale a few hundred yards away. It rained heavily all Thursday and Friday last week flooding several areas around here and the small beck became a raging torrent. A seventeen year old recruit, on exercise on Friday was carried away in the beck and his body was found downstream about 48 hours later. He wanted to be a soldier. One day perhaps wear stripes On the camo suit he wore with pride. Now he lies on a mortuary slab Waiting at ease for that final ride. Early to bed, early to rise Off at dawn on exercise. A beck to cross, it flows in spate. A voice calls out, ‘Get across it lads’. The youngsters didn’t wait. Three of them stumbled, Eager hands grabbed two. But he was carried away in the spray. Down the beck, under the flow, Not found for over a day. His pack was heavy His uniform new. Risedale Beck was running fast, Cutting a channel, deep and wide, Over Hipswell Moor so vast Goodbye young soldier, Rest with the heroes. For you too were also brave. But died in vain – to what intent? A teenagers’ premature grave.
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