Under Attack Poem by Angela Wybrow

In a green field, I was sat reclining,
Writing a letter - the sun was shining;
I heard a lark singing way up high
In the tall trees, which touched the sky.

My mind was absorbed with the written word,
When, all of a sudden, gunshots were heard;
Peace and tranquility very soon departed,
As a heavy bombardment suddenly started.

Ordered by our Commander to quickly stand to,
What we were facing, we had not a clue.
Soon, only a few of us were left on our feet,
And our original Company was left far from complete.

Out of our original two hundred and twenty seven,
Only thirty two men weren't now heading for Heaven.
As we headed for the village, along the road,
Up in the sky, the warm sun still glowed.

Heading our way, there now could be seen
A cloud which was drifting - a cloud of bright green;
One of our lads, who was surveying the scene,
Told us all straight - this cloud was chlorine.

To us, this gas lark was all incredibly new,
And, so, all around us, mass panic ensued;
For the men whose lungs were consumed by the foam,
Their lives ended here - they would never head home.