Waterloo.

A poem about regimental gatherings.

It’s strange, my time as a soldier lasted seven years and three months, but its shadow stretches far over anything I’ve done since then. I’ve been employed in my current job for nigh on fifteen years now, and though it’s a good firm that strive to bond the workforce together, there will never be the same camaraderie that I experience every time I meet up with the lads I served with.

Waterloo

Like pilgrims to a holy shrine

We gathered in our masses,

Dressed in blue, to Radetzky’s beat,

We charged our empty glasses.

To Waterloo and QDG

We toasted through the night,

And in an act of comradeship

We reaffirmed what’s right.

That in our celebration

We recognize the past,

And friendships forged as Dragoon Guards

Were cast in steel to last.

So lantern swung, and sandbag drawn

We told our tales of yore.

Of characters and postings,

In peacetime and in war.

And clouded in nostalgia,

We strengthened common ground.

Fuelled by ale and history shared

Old unit ties were crowned

We commemorate Waterloo

To pledge fraternity.

Pro rege et patria

Sed semper QDG.

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