Down the Pit

When I was the age of fourteen I had to go down and make fire.
The fire was brighter than a Sunnydale jumper, burning hot like the sun.
Blinding.
Red hot.
My life was horrible.
I did my bit for the war,
but could I have done a little bit more,
than I did?
Should I have fought?
The mines saved us all, now we’re just a legend.