A man remembered, Peter Bunn.
In those days vigorous, full of fun.
While we ‘The Company’ gain in skill
(Training hard we learn to ****)
Peter treats sore feet and sprains,
As we do, so does he - he trains.

As Infantry we must be fit,
No reason to be wealthy.
And Peter’s role, that’s his remit,
Was thus to keep us healthy.
A simple task would you agree,
Corporal Medic - Infantry?

Excepting, we were sent to war.
To fight of course, and what is more
All that blood and all that pain,
All that stress and all that strain,
Collectively on eighty men.
We needed Peter - now and then.

But all I see when looking back
Is Peter kneeling on a track
Before a man (It’s what I saw.)
Who lies there bleeding (**** this War.).
Who shivered, trembled, then who died.
And that’s the time when Peter cried.