Trail of the Dead

The howl of artillery passes overhead

Trailing tongues of fire, spelling certain death

Counter battery bursts raining down on positions

The steel inferno reaps its deadly harvest

I walk among the corpses of the fallen

Fingers curled into claws of rigor mortis

The wall of fire creeping closer

An infernal crescendo that seems not to end

We left a trail of ten thousand dead

I still hear their screams in my head

Feel the caress of hot lead

Fighting a battle we can’t win

Hot steel ripping through young flesh

Our numbers are growing thin

Nowhere to run nowhere to go

Wading through human remains

Comrades in pieces friends cut to shreds

The violence of warfare we start to comprehend