France 1916.

France, July 1916,

Soldiers trudge,

Through the sludge

Approaching the front-lines,

Wishing for better times.

Away from France,

Where the birds can hum.

Away from the horrors ,

Of the River Somme.

 

Reaching their destination,

A place scarred and deformed,

Littered with soulless victims,

Reeking of gunpowder and infection.

They plunge into the trenches,

Leaving their lives behind

To the hell of this planet,

Their new accommodation.

 

Now at the mercy of a dictatorship

Ruled by their commander,

All they know is what they are told

And all they are told is:

Entente est bien.

Allianz ist schlecht.

 

So they take their weapons

And their orders,

As millions have before.

 

Surrounded by blood and gore,

Deafened by gunfire and mortar,

They take their place in History,

The nameless role of a pawn.

 

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