The Price of War

At first glance the landscape appears desolate and baron, but look closely and its horrors will become apparent.
Thousands of corpses lay obliterated beyond recognition as a consequence from having failed their mission.
Although valiantly they tried to hold onto their final breath, did they really stand a chance against inevitable death?
Not one uniform is to be found without crimson red stains, or that isn’t covered in bullet shots that had insistently rained.
The harrowing war had put the men through their paces, for the fear is still etched upon their frozen faces.
And in the mist of all this unbearable devastation, one lone figure is stood still, at his station.
Scared out of his wits and too frighten to run, he had hid away in the dark depths of the trenches when the massacre begun.
He witnessed trees, sandbags, girders and comrades fly up in the air and all he could do was watch is despair.
Paralyzed involuntarily as the warfare had ceased, all had fallen silent, not one wisp of a breeze.
Alone he still stands’ looking out in dismay, and mutters: ‘is it really worth this price we have to pay?’