Mordent Salvo Of 1776

Why do poets paint war as a hero's treat?
And how can its silence be so deafening?
The steady march of men's feet,
The slight grating of sword on scabbard.

Nothing voiced, throats hoarse with emotions
Thinking of wives and families left behind.
What impact and value is all this commotion?
Is it worth starving far from home?

As the battle lines are drawn,
and brothers stand on opposing sides
Shivering in silence, snow christening the dawn
Each man praying they will taste victory today.

War fervor has corroded these poor minds
Has confused the voice within
Carried them far down the path that winds
Walking toward death, fighting for a mere whim.

The silence erupts into a hungry flame
As a salvo of cartridge swallows the field.
And when all is over who will take the blame?
For the rivers of blood melting ice and snow?

~Not my best work, but this was written for a personal writing challenge.