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I'm just beginning to realise what my parents, especially my mum, went through during my time in the Corps, and in Oman. I reach for the radio first thing in the morning, dreading what the headlines will be, and every day so far it has been sad news. It really is harder waiting, and wondering. There have been some excellent poems posted, and I offer my own:

The Knock on the Door

The radio's on, the TV as well
It's having to know, the news that they tell.
It's a fear that she bears like a constant bad dream,
She's a mum, with a son, who's a Royal Marine

She's proud, oh so proud of the things he has done.
From a child, to a youth, to a Corps, matched by none.
She has cried as his skills have been held in esteem,
From King's Squad, Green Beret, a trained Royal Marine.

She tries to keep busy, her mind on a chore,
But her nerves are all tensed for the 'Knock on the Door'.
Her hand trembles slightly, as she knows it might mean,
There's a padre stood there, with a sad Royal Marine.

She writes endless letters of trivial events.
Sends parcels of goodies, and sweaters like tents.
But she knows it may end with that 'Knock on the Door',
He has travelled the world, and she well knows the score.

But now he's at war, and the risks are extreme,
Yet he chose this profession, that of Marine.
She gave her support, now she waits like the rest,
Kept firm by the fact that he serves with the best.

Now, a glance at his photo, from days that have been,
His face smiling down, his eyes all a gleam.
The look that they have, these Bootnecks, these few,
And their loved ones just pray that their time is not due.

However, his mother has been here before,
Her father, a 'Royal', in the Second World War.
She ran with her mother to answer the door,
But the words, "We Regret", haunts their lives ever more.

Bravest of brave, are the ones who wait home.
They carry the burden, sometimes alone.
No honours for them, just the tears that they've cried,
But their son is a 'Royal', and their 'medal' is pride.

She straightens her dress, and pats at her hair,
For the sound of a vehicle has trembled the air.
There are steps to her door, then comes the first knock,
Through stained glass, she sees two, and her mind starts to rock.

The walk to the door, as she holds back the tears,
Takes a lifetime of memories, of dread and of fears.
She opens the door, misty eyed, cannot see

"Hi Mum"
"This is Bob"
"Just got back"
"What's for tea?"

Dedicated to all those who wait and hope. Derek Blevins. March 2003

Another two hanky job. Nice one Derek.

I resemble the previous speaker`s remarks.
Well done mate.
Aye

Derek...That was excellent, very touching, your poem should be sent to the media. aye Mogo

nice one Derek, and how true

Beautiful and wonderful words Derek, just the one box of tissues please.
One R&R from NI I did'nt go home, did'nt want to have Mum see me leave twice, spent four great days run ashore in Blackpool, God Bless Mums'

bit of a tear jerker, but accurate

I got the knock on the door August 23rd, 1981, and it still seems like it was only yesterday.

No further away than a picture,
A smile, or remembered phrase,
Bill lives on in my memory--
So close in so many ways.

For how often does a sunset
Bring nostalgic thoughts to mind
Of moments that we once shared
In days now left behind!

How often has a flower
Or a crystal autumn sky
Brought golden recollections
Of happy days gone by!

Yes, memory has a magic way
Of keeping Bill forever near
Ever close in mind and heart
Is the one I still hold most dear

In memory of Sgt William Campbell Corbett (see profile for picture)

My heart breaks for the pain and grief the families of those tragically lost are going through right now.

Maureen Corbett

I was moved beyond words by Derek's poetry. You have captured the two sides of this so accurately - Incredible pride in our sons, tempered by dread during this anxious time. My comfort is that his training was second to none, he knows what he is doing, he can rely 150% on his mates, as they can on him, he is not on his own, he is with the best there is.

God Bless

Maureen,those were wonderful words that you wrote in that poem for Bill,thanks for sharing them with us all,you must be so proud of your Royal.
my thoughts go out to all the personnel in the gulf,and to the families of the lads who have already made the ultimate sacrifice.Gods speed.

Maureen, Jeannie and the guys

Thank you for your kind words, and I hope, Maureen, that I didn't cause you too much re-visited pain.

When we say, 'We will remember them', I think we should also remember the loved ones they left behind, who 'remember them' every day.

Let's hope the waiting is soon over, and they're asking, 'What's for tea?

A very moving subject. Now I know how my mum and dad felt, especially in 82 when I was in the Falklands. I hope and pray that not one mother has to put up with loosing a son in this war.


I hope your proud of yourself BLAIR

Thanks Derek, im sitting in work reading your poem and very nearly started blubbering.
Extremely moving. Should be in the press that.

Derek,

Following your kind permission,I have sent your work to my Oppo,only time will tell whether he can use it,or get it published .. but I have stressed the importance which we all,as a "Family" attach to it ... here's hoping the wider world will have the opportunity to read those touching words.

Thanks again & well said !