At dawn the clouds of war begin their shreaking cry, egar to feast on the men who die.
Soon the beguale shall being its blaring call, to be joined by the cannons roar and an the mens battle cries, adding their war songs to the ear splitting din.
The guns shall spew their death and smoke. Their bullets of death killing men, like a tax collector, the grim comes,taking the dead when he please's. Tearing them from their lives, their loved ones and their firends. When shall this damned war end?
I long for when i can return home, but this hell on earth shall remain in my memory. Along with my firends from the army, john withs his hakweyes able to see most every thing but the bullet that hit him, Alex with his jokes all was at the ready when they were needed even whale he bled to death , i rember both. And how I plaeded form them to stay and not die but they still had to say good bye.
And now i shall march away to a new battle, leaving behind alex and john to be burned, or barred in a unmarkd grave whale we retreat.
I know not what is to become of this war but i know now that all war is, is not fun. Most boys think of war as fun. Alls fun and games until they met the business end of a gun.
Mothers listen to a ol' solider boy in blue. keep those little idots close to you. dont let them free, or all of your faimly see what happens when a litle one go's to fight in a war like me. -end
