British Poetic Verse about PTSD

A smart lad and upstanding too
decided what he'd like to do
of years he had, he'd spend a few
protecting the likes of me and you

His friends all thought him barmy
when he signed up for the army
got a uniform and he was trained
he played in all the army games

Then off to war this boy was sent
proud member of his regiment
but soon was shamed by things he did
his job forced him to kill small kids

The things he saw in battle zones
made this boy wish he'd stayed at home
the things his comrades often said
the times he almost wound up dead

He didn't easily take fright
but being shot at every night
landmines, missiles, homemade bombs
attacked, it seemed by everyone

Call it shell shock
call it battle fatigue
post traumatic stress disorder
it's really all the same to me

There had been no preparation
for this mental situation
he had chosen his vocation
now he can find no consolation

Now all that keeps him calm
in a world he's sure will cause him harm
a firearm by his side
his sanity has been denied

Every night the nightmares come
his friends all fear what he's become
he tries to live on civvy street
suspecting everyone he meets

We trained him up, we taught him well
now every day he goes through hell
every night his mind in shreds
where's the cure to fix his head?

-- Anonymous

Editor's Note: If you happen to know who actually wrote this, please let me know so I can attribute it correctly.  But no guesses, please.