Soldiers dug in, in the ground,
by Bernard Shaw
bullets flying all around.
The deadly machine gun’s rattle,
Men caught in the midst of battle.
Grenades exploding rent the air,
with shrapnel that does not care.
Wounded and dying screaming in pain,
As the exploding shells join the refrain.
Inferno coming straight from hell,
Riding on the non-caring shell.
Day and night nerves stretched taut
Fighting a war they never sought.
Caught up in the machinery of war,
Many a man asked, “What for? ”