A poem for the men of many wars

Hello, Indy and team, and TimeGhost members! You’ve done so much for me over the years with truly the best historical content on the internet. I just wanted to give something back. This poem is mainly inspired by the Western Front of the First World War, but the themes and feelings I was trying to capture persist in all times and places where men face the horrors and complexities of modern war. I do hope you enjoy it:

Men of Mud

Far from home, took up the sword
Did boys of summer, newly grown
For King, for Country, and the Lord
Into the pit their flesh was thrown

Men of mud, they soon became
Steeled themselves with deepest breath
Before the shells fell with the rain
Free days of youth died the first death

Days of war, never-ending
Often cold and never dry
Comrades home were always sending
Letters to make mothers cry

Fear for life gave each man pause
Yet time again by dawn they stood
Not for gain nor noble cause
But for brother, as brothers should

Hope, kindling for such sorrow
And they plainly wondered why
A world others could not know
Lest seen and known by eye

“How can men do this to men?”
They meekly asked aloud
They heard no answer now or then
But came home beaten, broken, proud

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