Battlefield

Bloody tears smeared across the insides of a gas mask.

All day long gun shots and explosions filled the atmosphere with smog and a stench of death lingered uncontrollably for all to bear.

Tick tock, tick tock, was the sound of the men’s shell shock, they could no longer tolerate the intimate shrills of dying soldiers gasping for their last breaths.

Trying to escape through the barbed wire, the cuts inches deep transformed into affects like the horrors witnessed placing psychological damage into innocence itself.

Lest we forget.

Executions happened excessively, blowing people away from civilisation, and creating massacres of young boys who dreamed of becoming famous footballers, not dying in vain.

Friend or foe is the question they had to ask themselves concerning trust.

Identification was a complicated matter, but even those who were not named have been restored with full dignity in the French Memorial.

Evolution created man to survive and our soldiers remained tranquil and durable.

Listening to the radio their loved ones waited for the excruciating news their sons and fathers had been murdered.

Death was something they were not afraid of, wearing their uniform with pride, they brought back the Great in Great Britain.