Walking blind into a battle field,
Scattered with bodies,
Some twitching all taken,
Crimson on mud,
The ground bomb shaken,
Few left standing,
Few brothers with I,
Trudge and stumble with tear in eye,
Moving with regret,
Tricked by the old lie,
There is no named hero among those who died,
For all nameluss now dead and gone,
None to be buried as a known someone,
And suddenly fear pounces,
Breathing out gas that attacks the lungs,
No more hope,
Death has come.