Commander’s Quandary

By Lynn Ockersz

The platoon commander,

Staid and statuesque,

Has his firm orders,

Which is to reduce to rubble,

Flats looming ahead,

Seen as terror nests,

In keeping with the tactic,

Of Viet Nam war fame,

Of ‘bombing the village,

In order to save it’,

But how could he forget,

The little boy’s piercing plea,

On seeing his home,

Going up in angry flames:

‘Sir, what wrong have we done?’,

And how keep himself intact,

On hearing his own little son,

Lament how he misses his Dad,

Long lost in an unwarranted war?