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"battallion" poems
I am the soldier of the 32nd Battalion. I wonder if i will make it out alive. I hear my friends dying around me. Iwant to fight and win this war for my country. I am the soldier of the 32nd Battalion. I understand that i may never see my family again. I say to others to keep fighting. I dream of the triumph if we win. I try to let out my emotions when no one is around. I hope we all survive but i know it won't happen. I am the soldier of the 32nd Battalion. I prtend to be strong in front of others. I feel so much pain. I touch my leg and feel blood. I worry i might not make it. I cry for my loved ones. I am the soldier of the 32nd Battallion. written by maegan cattermull
0
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 11:11 PM UTC
maegan-1
Soldier of the 32nd Battalion
I am the soldier of the 32nd Battalion. I wonder if i will make it out alive. I hear my friends dying around me. Iwant to fight and win this war for my country. I am the soldier of the 32nd Battalion. I understand that i may never see my family again. I say to others to keep fighting. I dream of the triumph if we win. I try to let out my emotions when no one is around. I hope we all survive but i know it won't happen. I am the soldier of the 32nd Battalion. I prtend to be strong in front of others. I feel so much pain. I touch my leg and feel blood. I worry i might not make it. I cry for my loved ones. I am the soldier of the 32nd Battallion. written by maegan cattermull
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18
A Night before Stalingrad It was a cold night as far as I could remember, The trenches were never empty Smoky on a mound of Earth Smelt of carcasses and dwelling death Dawn had forbidden us Much like how our governments had abandoned us a long time ago Time left its grim stain on us Many faces came, many faded- Some died with valor Some with false glory I cursed fate for leaving me alive I did not want any glory But now I had a purpose to serve And desertion would make me A traitor- hypocritical for how a second of thought could foreshadow years of strife. The punk had foresaken his mischief The tailor measured corpses The poet had put down his pen The graduate his degree I remember my life as a fisherman before all the bustle and ******* patriotism took its root. The mayor promised us a warm bed, food for our families but were they of any good? Now that most of the backs to lay on that comfort were buried under soil that claimed no identity. A new month- new recruits Their eyes always at first gleamed with dreams, Oh! To slit the enemy, raise the flag above their dead body. Only if it were that easy! Their eyes always drowned once they witnessed the atrocities. New soldiers kept on piling Much the better for the "big man" to spread their irony. Some ol' merry jester once had given us our smiles back only for him the next day to be shot right between the eyes, Since that day- our division had seen no hint of joy But every now and then we raised our glasses and made a toast to his soul. The brave men beside me sobbed and let their tears flow like streams of an unprecedented waterfall. We hugged and embraced each other to feel what might've been our last night of company. I felt no remorse- no sadness, I had not much to look up to I knew my battallion was to be wiped the next morning. I let out a deep sigh and took out my wallet, glancing into the still photo of my massacred family. I gently wept and prayed to Almighty To take me into his arms- To take me completely To my family To my family. It was a cold night and time moved slowly It was a cold night It was a night before Stalingrad.
0
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
GG
A Night before Stalingrad
A Night before Stalingrad It was a cold night as far as I could remember, The trenches were never empty Smoky on a mound of Earth Smelt of carcasses and dwelling death Dawn had forbidden us Much like how our governments had abandoned us a long time ago Time left its grim stain on us Many faces came, many faded- Some died with valor Some with false glory I cursed fate for leaving me alive I did not want any glory But now I had a purpose to serve And desertion would make me A traitor- hypocritical for how a second of thought could foreshadow years of strife. The punk had foresaken his mischief The tailor measured corpses The poet had put down his pen The graduate his degree I remember my life as a fisherman before all the bustle and ******* patriotism took its root. The mayor promised us a warm bed, food for our families but were they of any good? Now that most of the backs to lay on that comfort were buried under soil that claimed no identity. A new month- new recruits Their eyes always at first gleamed with dreams, Oh! To slit the enemy, raise the flag above their dead body. Only if it were that easy! Their eyes always drowned once they witnessed the atrocities. New soldiers kept on piling Much the better for the "big man" to spread their irony. Some ol' merry jester once had given us our smiles back only for him the next day to be shot right between the eyes, Since that day- our division had seen no hint of joy But every now and then we raised our glasses and made a toast to his soul. The brave men beside me sobbed and let their tears flow like streams of an unprecedented waterfall. We hugged and embraced each other to feel what might've been our last night of company. I felt no remorse- no sadness, I had not much to look up to I knew my battallion was to be wiped the next morning. I let out a deep sigh and took out my wallet, glancing into the still photo of my massacred family. I gently wept and prayed to Almighty To take me into his arms- To take me completely To my family To my family. It was a cold night and time moved slowly It was a cold night It was a night before Stalingrad.
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