Dispatched
His day started badly,
He woke far too early;
The chill of the barracks
Disturbing his rest.
The coarse woollen blankets
Were rarely sufficient
For inclement weather;
He swore as he dressed.
~0~
His mood was not helped
By the recent postponement
Of leave, long arranged
To begin two days past.
At least several weeks,
Thanks to enemy action,
Before he could visit
His family at last.
~0~
No chance to protest
As a humble, low ranking,
Unquestioning soldier
At plans gone awry.
He tried not to dwell
On the years since he'd seen them.
He'd just do his duty;
Salute and comply.
~0~
Over breakfast he pondered
On previous assignments;
On playing his part in
The Russian campaign.
He shivered, reliving
The harshest conditions;
No Hammelburg winter
Could match that again.
~0~
He picked up the mailbag
And map from the office,
And stowed them securely;
His usual routine.
He checked the addresses;
All stops were familiar,
From outlying check points
To Stalag Thirteen
~0~
He rode out unheeding
Of crisp autumn sunshine;
Still sad and frustrated;
At odds with the world.
He crossed the main bridge,
As it spanned the steep valley,
Above the deep waters
Which sparkled and swirled.
~0~
The day progressed slowly;
Repeated transactions,
Polite formal greetings,
Collecting the mail.
And there at the back
Of his mind was the hope
That his new application
For leave would not fail.
~0~
He arrived at the gates
Of the Stalag late morning;
He'd followed the set
Regulations on speed.
He found himself pressed
By the Sergeant in charge
To go out of his way,
To perform a good deed.
~0~
He was tired, and disgruntled;
Reluctant for any
Unplanned and unlawful,
Unwanted delay.
But...the money would help him
When travelling homeward;
Ten marks, a fair price
For the Sergeant to pay.
~0~
One small irritation,
On leaving the office;
A prisoner engrossed in
His precious machine.
Sharp words at the
Insolent nerve of the stranger;
Relief when he finally
Rode from the scene.
~0~
He fully intended
Fulfilling his errand;
A Düsseldorf detour
Before he returned.
But a hand raised to halt
At a sentry post swiftly
Recalled him to duty;
A harsh lesson learned.
~0~
He paused at the crossroads,
Turned right towards Braunstadt;
The bridge, bearing scars
From night bombing, ahead.
He knew the repair work
Was part of the reason
He wasn't home now
With his family instead.
~0~
Now onto the bridge,
With deep water below him;
All other sounds lost
To his motorbike's roar
A brief vivid flash
Sparked intense apprehension.
A moment of clarity...
Then...
Nothing...
More...
~0~
Back at the Stalag
They heard the explosion
And grinned at a plot
Most successfully hatched.
A vital supply route
Now out of commission;
One luckless,
Anonymous,
Soldier
Dispatched...
Author's note: this was sparked by the episode "German Bridge is Falling Down". I read that motor cycle units were used at the Russian front early on, but conditions limited this use.