No glory to win

British Infantry move to fight for Passchendaele, World War 1

Early in the break of every morning,

And every rising of the moon,

Our lives are riddled with combat,

Rendering us to nothing but doom.

It is only a stalemate at the frontline,

where both the soldiers rest in mud,

roads and houses, all is gone,

there’s no glory to be won.

The worst conditions possible reside with us,

From the trenches to the fields, we fight,

From every crack of gunfire, win we must,

But all hope seems lost, to Germany we lost our might.

To war, we know that many men will suffer

To war, we know that many men will fall pale

There were half a million lives at stake

You need only ask the fields of Passchendaele

As the night falls and the General calls

He orders the fighting to continue, to take the land

We pawns blindly fight, the battle continues on and on

We know not the purpose of it all

We sit still in a deadlock at the frontline

Where our brothers always die in mud

roads and houses since long gone

still no glory has been won

From the break of dawn we hear no fire

the other side only so quiet

Our General orders us to march, but we only tire

We gather what little strength resides, we rise and march

Thousands of feet march to the beat

Its an army on the march

We are a long way from home

And we pay the price in young mens lives

Thousands of feet march to the beat

Its an army in despair

Knee deep in mud

Stuck in the trenches with no way out

We march tirelessly, but we slow ourselves constantly

From every warm mud pit we fall, to every cold ocean we swim

Our destination is nearly at an end

We see only fire and sand, no grass left to trim

We met a piece of land, six miles to see

There begun the German gunfire, once more

To the battle we march, but combat means only instinct

Why we are here, the questions only haunt me

First strike is ours, no mercy is shown

They share no such sympathy, nor will they

Our General orders to charge to our demise

We hope only they suffer greatly, our enemy

We fought bravely, we found our pride alas

From the fields to this forsaken land

We kill for every mile we see

We also die for every mile we take

My brothers fall to the left and right of me

What was their hearts were replaced by crimson

We knew the worst has only come, we knew what was to happen

The only enemy we fear, our ultimate enemy has risen

The German gunfire dies down, but continues to kill

Merciless killing they have displayed

We fall numerously, most not returning to their feet

At the fault of marksmen atop multiple mills

The end of the battle, we remind our general, many men have suffered

And with them, many men have also died

Six miles of land have been won

Half a million men are gone.

Now in this home, I lay here bleeding

My heart beats slower with every passing day

My family visits, they rejoice to see me once more

But I know my day of reckoning is near, not too soon I only pray

Author's Note

One of my historical poems I made, hope you enjoy :)