We The Forgotten

The bugle screamed through the air,

The sound of cimmerian despair,

Hundreds of weary, homesick lads,

Lay dying on blankets and pads.

Miles away from comfort and care,

Warriors with wide eyes and blank stares,

"Alas, luck has ran out of us all",

"The proverbial handwriting is on the wall",

"Will our loved ones remember us?",

"Or be consigned to oblivion as time passed?",

For weeks the corpses lay rotten,

We the soldiers, we the forgotten.