All Quiet On The Front Line
In the beginning, there were one hundred and fifty men now there are only thirty-two.
by Carol Ann Woods
The war has taken its toll, forced to turn into animals; getting down on all fours,
hiding from our enemies who only seek to destroy. All we ask for in return is a good
and a place to rest. Instead, we come home for leave and get the third degree.
Our friends and family don’t understand why we aren’t feeling so grand.
How can we explain what is habit for them, we will never regain.
Our past and future has to fall, so we can answer our calls, to stand tall on the front-line and protect
them all. Terror and death we stare them straight in the face without thought, we are men of war.
People say we are full of honor and grace; with instinct we duck and hide our face.
Deep! Deep! Down in the earth no place for any beast. I hear cries in the dark, my thoughts
are hazy, I’m dizzy and stir crazy. The war has no mercy, it hasn’t a friend; Kaiser wanted his fame in 1918, and the rest of the
world was the same. Death cries for the grave, life needs light, misery can be seen when looking deep into prisoner’s eyes. A widow will not be at rest, until she receives all her loves mail after his death. Soldiers stand beside soldiers until the end. Trenches, Hospitals, and the Grave, War is War nothing will change.