Covert Operation

I detected a vague numbness

I always felt before a confrontation;

the feeling you got just before the whistle blew

until first contact at the scrum,

the voyage towards the unknown

ultimate test.

Not afraid exactly – more fear perhaps

of letting your mates down,

or looking a complete arse

at the critical moment.

The vehicle moved out of cover

and into the gauntlet,

sniper alley,

heart thumping,

committed now, no return,

clear of the doors – Go Go Go!

And like automatons the training kicked in

as we fed the broken pieces of plaster board

into the non-recycling bay, bin- liners and all.

So far so good, but complacency killed the cat

the sergeant major had drilled into us,

and we humped the artificial Christmas tree

into garden waste, complete with box

(and a guilty feeling)

whilst at the end of the compound,

the sinister patrol of highly trained

Municipal Refuse Operators berated an innocent

local for putting old clothing in the wrong bin

and pointing menacingly at a warning sign.

Only the analogue TV to go,

and in a moment of rashness, heightened by the thrill

of the moment, I nonchalantly dropped it

by the container marked ‘Car Batteries’

and gave a relaxed salute to the tabarded

sentries as we drove slowly away

wondering if it would so easy next time.

John H Davies

29th January 2011