In a swirl of thick black smog
The trench is covered and bombed.
It has been 14 hours of grueling firing back and forth.
It seems there won’t a clear winner for another while.
Out jump men who no longer had masks,
They are met with the buzz of the machine gun.
Others run behind the trench to a nearby post
Where another trench is being rebuilt built.
The sky begins to darken and despite all notion of time being lost
They know this is not evening darkness; it is the darkness of a storm
If the enemy frontline is not overtaken in the next hour
The trench will be flooded at they will face more hardships
The rumble of the allied planes soon fills the air.
There is now a swarm of noises, men shouted, bombs droppings, guns firing.
The platoon is to move, over the front, as fast as inhumanly possible,
A new power moves the men as they sprawl to the ground and crawl.
The bombs attract the attention of the Germans, and they flee the planes,
We run towards them and the third trench of the enemy is taken.
They are replenished in food, and artillery.
Despite the hard work there is a small victory today.
This is how history is made