All Quiet on the Western Front

All quiet on the Western Front;
nothing seems to stir,
even with the constant Artillery grunt.
The Enemy concurs.

I knew a dozen live and healthy boys,
who were only doing their countries duty,
in the Great War though they were just toys.
No regard by their leaders to see the harsh cruelty.

Trudging through the litter of death,
Gun in hand, Fear in Heart,
dreading the enemies threat.
All just wanting to do their part.

These men are now lifeless souls,
though considered to be survivors;
they will always be shoveling mental coals.
Wishing they had been the skivers.

They will never be the same people they used to be,
unable to slip back into everyday life,
their Countries mistakes their fee.
All they know now is to kill with a gun and knife.

Nowadays silence is their greatest enemy,
the memories of the hunt,
with a taste of sour lemony.
All Quiet on the Western Front.

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