Millions of the young
Strode under the black sky
Mobilized for glory
As their march echoed
Entrenched by the raw fire
Immobilized in that soil
Machines controlled the fields
Where honour could not
Obeisant to fate in the morning mist
The brotherhood of arms reached its journey’s end
No requiem or obsequies
For the anonymous fallen who rest in the soil
No recourse through the machines
Thrown into gun fire all maneuvers
The sunken road now nothing more
Than shell-holes filled with carcasses and wreckage
