Herbert Spencer coined it,we took it to mint

Our dead comrades lie in the cold wet mud
face down next to us
bayonet muzzles fire
leaves our ears ringing
 
these trenches are too close for comfort
in the wake of war
earthen tunnels flying overhead  
from landing artillery shells
as we drink our morning coffee
 
flowers of the field mangled
in arms reach
 
no mans land  
lead us
as a woman to the bedroom
bright blue eyes  
are the last warm touch i want these fingers to feel
not tapping a trigger  
taking lives
amidst the smoke & whispers of this doomsday book
 
last resort before we clear camouflaged nests
buzzing bursts from a pillbox
close quarters combat lets us know  
survival of the fittest is still in full effect
 
calls us home to mother
home to proud fathers
pulled from bloated standing water kingdoms
tangled lifeless in barbwire coils
ribbons snipped short by a seamstress  
 
 
a Vickers machine gun casts the first vote
if we stand up to straighten our backs
just before we break their lines
it'll be over faster than "Shave and a Haircut"
"two bits" responded by Gewehr 98 rifle echos
 
we shall rise from our brown dug in graves
we've regrettably called home
storm troopers on the attack
 
and if cut down  
standing up for what we believe
let the next brave soul behind us  
take up my courage as ammo cartridges
 
reigning down Hell's fury
round after round
so our enemies shall know
what is wrong and what is right
 
 
 
 
 
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this write is about losing friends
the determination to carry on
and leaving your mark on the world how you see fit
if any is even necessary at all