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Literature Text
Tell me my friend did you ever hear the old war tale
Of the overlooked martial hero whose great prides made him fail?
Of whom do I speak you ask, is it about Custer
Or some French General who was prone to boasts and bluster?
Neigh, I speak of Herculean hero or dapper chap
I speak of one who wore braces and was in need of a cap.
Its Grimsby’s own dear son General Barrow
The poor sod who met his end in a field quite fallow.
He thought he could take on Soviet Tanks
By aping the tactics made famous by Yanks.
On the plains of Germany’s heartland he did send
His army determined was he to kick Ivan’s rear end.
Alas though his strategy soon went to cropper
So impatient was he that he led from the front in a chopper.
His pilot was good; he weaved and dodged the enemy flack
Unfortunately the chopper was soon shot in the back.
The chopper soon found itself fighting gravity
The bleak situation robed the pilot of his levity.
Inevitably the chopper crashed
And with it NATO’s hopes were dashed.
It would soon be the end of the battle
But Barrow would live long enough to see its last rattle.
Thrown up in the mud during the big crash
Barrow tasted mud and blood and suffered a gash.
For a time he did lay watching the rout
Trying hard to shake the image of a hooked Trout.
As hard as it was for him to swallow
He accepted his defeat refusing to wallow.
But before he could make himself stand
Fate drew him one last cruel hand.
In the corner of his vision he saw
An RPG came to make him no more.
Making a small arc the missile followed a trend
And thus did his career and life both end.
Felled by an unsophisticated rocket,
He died fighting, just like the more famous Davy Crockett.
Having been brought low by a 20th century arrow
A T-34 churned his bones to marrow.
Of the overlooked martial hero whose great prides made him fail?
Of whom do I speak you ask, is it about Custer
Or some French General who was prone to boasts and bluster?
Neigh, I speak of Herculean hero or dapper chap
I speak of one who wore braces and was in need of a cap.
Its Grimsby’s own dear son General Barrow
The poor sod who met his end in a field quite fallow.
He thought he could take on Soviet Tanks
By aping the tactics made famous by Yanks.
On the plains of Germany’s heartland he did send
His army determined was he to kick Ivan’s rear end.
Alas though his strategy soon went to cropper
So impatient was he that he led from the front in a chopper.
His pilot was good; he weaved and dodged the enemy flack
Unfortunately the chopper was soon shot in the back.
The chopper soon found itself fighting gravity
The bleak situation robed the pilot of his levity.
Inevitably the chopper crashed
And with it NATO’s hopes were dashed.
It would soon be the end of the battle
But Barrow would live long enough to see its last rattle.
Thrown up in the mud during the big crash
Barrow tasted mud and blood and suffered a gash.
For a time he did lay watching the rout
Trying hard to shake the image of a hooked Trout.
As hard as it was for him to swallow
He accepted his defeat refusing to wallow.
But before he could make himself stand
Fate drew him one last cruel hand.
In the corner of his vision he saw
An RPG came to make him no more.
Making a small arc the missile followed a trend
And thus did his career and life both end.
Felled by an unsophisticated rocket,
He died fighting, just like the more famous Davy Crockett.
Having been brought low by a 20th century arrow
A T-34 churned his bones to marrow.
A friend of mine was really into this strategy game, one day he tells me how he cocked up a mission by forgetting about the enemies anti air units. For some reason this inspired me to create this thing here.
© 2013 - 2024 Skargill
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Was it Wargame: European Escalation?