Oh trenches deep, where death does dwell,
Beneath the fog, in mud we fell.
With iron will and heart of steel,
A captain's duty to conceal.
Through biting cold and cannon's roar,
We held the line, endured the war.
To lead my men, my sole command,
Against the foe, in this cursed land.
Then came a word, a Christmas truce,
An armistice, a brief recluse.
The guns fell silent, men did rise,
In no man's land, with wary eyes.
They met their foes, in sacred ground,
And buried dead, without a sound.
With wine and cheer, they shared a thought,
A fleeting peace, but dearly bought.
I stood aloof, observed the scene,
To humanize, I was not keen.
The enemy, a faceless foe,
No truce or cheer could make it so.
The siren wailed, the truce did end,
Back to our posts, the foe again.
With heavy heart, resumed the fight,
To hunt the shadows of the night.
With hands on gun, I led the charge,
To turn the tide, our task at large.
Yet in my mind, that vision stayed,
Of men as men, not war's charade.
A tragic end, a chance denied,
To see the world from other side.
For in my heart, the battle raged,
A human soul, forever caged.
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