The Country Lane…

They marched down the lane on their way to vindicate the South.

Some barely old enough to be called men, some perhaps too old to be there...

The echo of their boots, at least those fortunate enough to have them, struck flint-like on the odd stone they encountered.

They passed along the lane, soldiers now, just as they had loped down the lane to meet their sweethearts, in happier times.

This rendezvous was not to steal a kiss but to take a life before theirs was taken. No thoughts now of girls or love, just a hope they would survive to make this same journey, home…

The formation continues down the lane, excitement, anticipation; fear of the unknown all  lie ahead, waiting.  Death is still not uppermost in their thoughts…

Birds flit in the trees, the morning sun shines, the wind gently stirs the leaves, now the sound of guns shatter the beauty of the morning, the first volley comes and then another and another….

Too few will make the journey home….