PTSD 

Pretty Polly. (1988 – 2010)

Say goodbye to Pretty Polly

The lass from the Co-op store

She went and joined the Army

And they sent her off to War 

Off to far Afghanistan 

To set the people free

Pretty Polly’s was blown up

By a roadside I.E.D.

The armour saved her physically

But mentally she was gone

Stuck there in a time warp

Wasn’t able to move on.

They didn’t just desert her

The counsellors really tried

But out there in Afghanistan 

Some part of her had died.

But Pretty Polly was a soldier

And a soldier’s life is cheap

So they gave her a War Pension

And out on the scrap heap.

Pretty Polly didn’t moan

And Pretty Polly didn’t whine

She had after all voluntarily

Signed on the dotted line.

She slept rough in the woods

Bivvying on  open ground

Alert and awakened by 

Every single little sound.

Sat on a shop doorsteep

For hours every single day

Until the police or the council

Finally moved her on her way.

They found her in a wood

Hanging from a rope 

Pretty Polly it seems 

Had finally lost all hope.

Just another Veteran

Who chose to end life like that

They bore Standards at her funeral

The coffin bore her Dress Hat.

The Padre told her story

The family held a wake

Some of her Regiment came

Just for old times sake

To saygoodbye to Pretty Polly

The lass from the Co-op store

Just another senseless victim

Of another senseless war.

The Armed Forces are probably the only true Equal Opportunity employer in  land.

Both genders train together, have the same opportunities for advancement, accept the conditions of employment, and have the same expectation of giving their lives in the service of a generally ungrateful nation.

In addition the women suffer discrimination in a very largely male environment and only the very strong survive a full engagement (22 years)

Polly is a construct but her story is all too common.   There is virtually no obligation for aftercare following discharge.  That is left to charities to provide.

After 7 years, until the first Covid lockdown, as part of a small charity run by ex service volunteers for ex service personnel I felt broken myself.  Some we lost, many we won, but it was a job that could never be finished.  The basis for Polly hung themself

selves in Brantingham Dale.   

 I served for 4 years in a specialised occupation, still subject to the Official Secrets Act.  I was sufficiently naive to give an honest opinion when asked for, was threatened with Court Martial for subversion and took on the Army on my own, and, against all odds, won.

It was my own experience that made me try to help.  Whatever our age we spoke the same language, suffered many of the same hardships, and understood many of their problems.

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The post PTSD: Small Steps appeared first on Jennifer Gilmour.