The ashen faces of dead men
They will never fight again.
Those who survive are still scarred,
Locked away in asylums barred.
Drinking and throwing their lives away,
When best friends die and brothers are slain.
Is this how their lives end?
This will never end my friend.

That man in khaki, but a child
His face plastered with a smile.
The dishcloth of war will soon wipe that smile from his face.
Death or glory? Death for me.
In the blood soaked trenches of Normandy.
The boys who die crying for their mothers –
What medal did they ever bequeath?
The burning love of the mother they did leave.

Competition Winner!