The order came, it was to do or die,
Soldiers offered a prayer to the sky,
To do their duty that fateful day,
Cross the battlefield where enemy lay.
A hail of bullets, a crash of shell,
No-mans land was a living hell,
Noise and smell attacked their senses,
Mud and shell holes worse than fences.
Rifle bullets, the hail of machine gun fire,
Horizontal rain against cruel barbed wire,
Would the nightmare never end,
To stay alive and again meet a friend.
Those days are etched on history’s door,
Every year we remember once more,
The final price paid by them all,
Unsung heroes who took the fall.
Medals can’t replace husband and son,
Who never again will see the sun,
To sleep forever on foreign shore,
Their duty done forever more.
Lower the flag, let the bugle call,
A salute to those who took the fall,
They gave their life far from home,
Names etched in a memorial tome.
Remember them by an engraved stone,
Some died together, some alone,
Feel the silence as they felt pain,
Knowing they’d never return again.
Just one day, once every year,
It doesn’t hurt to shed a tear,
Dwell on the awful price they paid,
As poppy wreaths are gently laid.
Written by Will Roe 11th November 202