I step out the mud filled trench,
I wonder who will survive today,
A dew dozen won’t make it,
I want to do my country proud,
But I do miss home.
I stand up tall,
Rifle at the ready.
Firing at the enemies,
As they fire at me.

‘’GAS, GAS, boys gas masks!’’ is shouted.
A man stumbling, choking for help,
This is not the way to die.
He is not ready to be flung in the back of the blood filled truck.

The gas is cleared,
War not ended,
Boys limping, wearing one or none boots,
Here comes the truck,
Even the strongest lay there, eyes gazed over,
Some of the injuries are the most obscene ever,
Some come back to haunt me in my sleep,

I want to complete this war,
Otherwise I am just another commoner not knowing why I am really here.
I want to lie peacefully,
Not bloody and seriously wounded.