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'Weather's great''
Angry thunderheads mask the watery skies,
Throwing the rough terrain into dark shadow.
Rain slams into the thick mud all around,
Turning the atmosphere into a grey blanket.
The icy wind stings bare flesh,
Grabbing at my weathered uniform.
'Food is 1st class''
Tinned ham slides tastelessly down
My singed, deprived throat.
Scrumptious meals float teasingly
In front of my hallucinating eyes
Like a young child thinking of sweets.
'Feeling great''
Fatigue hangs over me,
Dampening my every gloomy thought.
Images of dying comrades,
Screaming in pathetic agony,
Are embedded on my polluted mind.
Grazes line my worn face and legs,
Stinging without mercy.
'Really enjoying myself''
I dread every command from the general,
Urging each brave hungry soldier,
To go over the top like lambs to the slaughter,
To be met by a tide of shrapnel,
Killing, dismembering at contact.
Ruining families,
Breaking hearts.
The strongest and toughest of men
Are brought down by a tide of ammo.
'I wish you were here.'