Private Jones's Confession

A Poem by Joy C

We are studying "The Firing Squad" by Colin McDougall in summer school, and I just wanted to know what Jones feels like, what is his version of the story. So here goes...

Standing before ten rifles,
Aiming at my chest

I summoned the last of my courage,
The courage that I realized I have,
Only too late.

Willing my face to hold the smile,
Plastered to my face,
Grimacing.

Stand still,
A man’s last dignity

Why don‘t they get this over with?

The haunting memory sprang before my eyes,
An soldier committing AWOL
Grateful of taken in by a group of deserter- gangsters,
Supposedly cowards

Then the polices came
To capture us
I wasn’t the one firing the gun
I know it
But if I have one, I certainly won’t
Hesitate to murder him.
I know that too

“Squad, Load!”
An command spits out by Captain Adam

It’s time
Despite my knees slowly buckling under me
Look forward to the moment, when they
Do not need to support me, any longer

I feel a sting of pity for the captain
Poor guy,
Leaving his manhood behind
When he fled the battlefield
Now the prospect of destroying the shameful record
Only if he becomes an executor
Rips away the last shreds of his self- respect

His eyes, the windows to his soul,
Scream agony.

Everyone, the firing squad, sergeant, guards, and official witnesses,
Awaits his next order

“Squad! Unload! Rest!”
Three simple words cut through the stillness

An immense relief washed over my body
I wasn’t ready after all
My knees completely gave away

Captain Adam’s erect stance hit my eyes,
A face tilted toward the early summer’s sun
Before all went black