Gunfire, like short, relentless hiccups, echo
in the minds of those with enough mind left
to understand that the screams to follow
are casualties of their baynet's breath

I stand upon the backs of fallen men.
I c*** my weapon and, under sandbags, take aim.
Only through misdirection could this moment sweeten
the hard silence to follow ammunition rain

Nothing is as terrifying as the face of a German boy,
close up they remind us of our sons at home.
Their guns held loose, like a small child's toy
until a bullet leaves them without a gravestone

Amidst the chaos, a tranquility can be found,
amongst the scores of men half blown
They lay still, eyes closed, littering the ground
dieing peacefully- even amongst war- blessedly alone