Poor Paddy, we took him along the road to hell, through Ishmailia to Moascar Jail.
Paddy looked sick and was really quite pale, as we entered the gates of Moascar Jail.
Which of the bastards will be prisoner here? Screamed the provost Sergeant as we stood in fear.
Prisoner and escort double around the room, the Sergeant’s voice then did boom.
We double and doubled and doubled around, till no more breath could be found.
Suddenly another Provo came from behind a door, got hold of Paddy and threw him to the floor.
He screamed at Paddy as he slammed the door. We heard Paddy groan and saw him no more.
We left poor Paddy in the jail and we drove back along the road from hell, through Ishmailia towards the Suez Canel.
No one spoke but our thoughts would tell, of what we had seen in Moascar Jail, and the terrible plight of poor Paddy.
(Paddy Purdell Court Martial March 1949)
From the series “National Service poems 1947-1949 by Bill Underwood “