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Battle Of The Bulge: Epilouge
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Battle Of The Bulge: Epilouge

Poem By Czarina Matviyko

In the dark and cloudless night
the stars and Moon where out of sight.
The cannons died, the drums have ceased;
for a while there may be peace.

The soldiers dug their trenches deep,
for it's their lives they want to keep.
As they wait for break of dawn
only few bwgin to yawn.

The battle's over, drums have cease,
the god of war should now be pleased.
When sleep begins to settle in
a desperate cry is heard within.

He cries for help, he cires for life,
he cries for his beloved wife.
'He'll be dead soon, worry not'-
thar's what our Lieutenant thought.

So we left him lying there
in awful pain and great despair.
Five minutes passed, he must've gone -
for the longest time he just held on.

But life prevails - he cries once more,
weaker now forevermore.
'Don't worry men, he'll soon be dead' -
that's what our Lieutenant said.

Time has passed, he's still alive,
hoping help will soon arrive.
But no one comes - the meds have passed,
no soul on Earth thinks he can last.

No one goes to help him out,
it's not what war is all about.
War is cruel and cold as ice,
too keep your life you role it's dice.
War is suffering graphic death,
from our pain it takes a breath.

No longer can I stand to hear
his deperate cries of pain and fear.
Silently, I look about
and with caustin lumber out.
No Man's nand is straight ahead,
I hear the man who isn't dead.

Across the fields his comrades wait
for this man to meet his fate.
He cries again, a desperate plea,
a spark of life that wouldn't flee.

As I approah I think he knows
that I'm a soldier from his rows.
'A soldier, yes, but not with you,
for Hitler Youth I never knew.'

The medi'c dead, he left behind
a kit with crimson blood that shined.
I try to help this Nazi boy
who's leader used him as a toy.

So far my plans have not yet failed -
the ship of death has not yet sailed.
The comrades who had thought he'd die
finally answer their friend's cry.

A prisinor they think he will be
once they catch a sight of me.
Their guns are raised and aimed at me,
their darkened shapes are all I see.
The trigger's pulled - they just tried to help him out -
his life they spare, but mine they don't - it's not what war is all about.

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