Martin “Marty” Boyce

LATRINE DUTY

I don’t know what my father did to be lumped with such a task
It was something never spoken of, we were never game to ask
just how he came to have a job we reckoned was obscene
on a steamy day at Moratai to clean out a latrine

Latrine may conure images of established sheds and such
in truth latrines at Moratai were never really much
a simple trench along the fence, perhaps a jungle screen
just in case the blokes were shy not wanting to be seen

Now my dad surveyed the job at hand and came up with a plan
while the other blokes who shared the task all nodded to a man
some petrol will kill off the germs and take away the smell
and when it burns the flies around will all be fried as well

A bloke like dad would know a thing or two about the fuel
and every bloke who’s used it for a fire knows the rule
a little bit is plenty but if you want the job done well
Use plenty more than what is needed, strike your match and run like hell

A forty-four of petrol was the volume that he used
“why would you use so much of it?” his mate had asked confused
“We only want to do this once” was my dads quick reply
Then he struck his match and ran like hell with one eye on the sky

The contents of the trench were flung to all points far and wide
with the size of the explosion they were sure someone would have died
Each tent and every vehicle had a film of filth and mud
and the CO was heard call out for that mongrel Boyce’s blood

He was marched up to the CO to explain what had gone wrong
in no mood for explanations it never took the CO long
to order that my dad would clean latrines each morning noon and night
that there was to be no petrol nor a matchbox within sight

My dad took all this on the chin and settled back to work
all the while muttering things along the lines of “what a jerk”
The cleaning now it must be done as the manual had preferred
Dad carried on, as did the camp, each person undeterred