We Moved On Out Of Waldbreitbach

We moved on out of Waldbreitbach
Well past the close of day,
On a moon bathed star sprinkled sort of night
Tho our hearts were not half as gay.

Down the road along the river Weid
Rode our column of tanks, jeeps and men
Thru the cool of the night toward the heat of battle.
Over the hills and into the glen.

To our side a Focke-Wolf all silver lay, like a wounded fish on it’s belly
Having panted it’s last gasp of tracer blood, thru 30 caliber nostrils,
It now looked so serene, so awkward and even innocent as it lay by the river
Almost too good to have been the pride and coffin of Nazi wastrels.

The night was lit on either side by fires like floodlights
From glowing barns around the arena of intense artillery,
Now and then a screech in the sky
Would tell a guy it had passed by, but far too close for safety.

We stopped a while and plainly heard the screech ‘n scrunch
Of shells a smothering in the ground,
And wondered if the bunch ahead
Would get up again from where they’d just dove down.

And up and up our convoy goes, past the silent line of doughs
Thru the wreckage, the dead, the cattle and rubble stink,
And then settled in to wait and guard and ...... think.
Then it starts; burr dit dit dit burrup, Jerry fire.

The dit dit ditty dit of machine guns
Tracers light the ground and point fingers of hate
Here, there, almost everywhere
And now the battle has begun, just watch and wait.

So perhaps a distant roar like thunder in the air
Calls out the pellting hail of ack-ack,
Explosions on the ground give proof of streaks of lightning still up there
Strafing, struggling, squirming, striking back.

Yes, wait and watch and think then hope awhile
This storm too will spend itself, and in useless fury be swept away,
By the fresh west winds of democracy
Still blowing in from Dover and Calais.

Yes, we moved on out of Waldbreitbach
Well past the close of day,
We’ll move and move and advance again
As long as we still belong on freedoms’ way.

By Michael P Grace
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