I stand on a line, fighting to the front;
Soldiers to the left and right, I am a grunt.
I stand on a line, protecting those to the rear;
Soldiers die on my left, I’m engulfed with fear.
I stand on a line, shooting at our foes;
Soldiers die on my right, I’m next, who knows;
I stand on a line, with the last of us here;
We charge our enemy, with a loud cheer.
I stand in front of a line, our foes devoured;
We were all brave, no one a coward.
I stood on a line, a very crucial line;
Fight the enemy, until they are supine!
I stood on a line, protecting many people;
But many died, bodies piled up like a steeple.
Behind the line, many our happy and free;
But on the line many died, and they knew this to be.
Behind the line, the people soon go on;
The brave soon forgotten, treated like a pawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.