IT was thick with Prussian troopers, it was foul with German guns; <br />Every tree that cast a shadow was a sheltering place for Huns. <br />Death was guarding every roadway, death was watching every field, <br />And behind each rise of terrain was a rapid-fire concealed <br />But Uncle Sam's Marines had orders: 'Drive the Boche from where they're hid. <br />For the honor of Old Glory, take the woods!' and so they did. <br /> <br />I fancy none will tell it as the story should be told- <br />None will ever do full justice to those Yankee troopers bold. <br />How they crawled upon their stomachs through the fields of golden wheat <br />With the bullets spitting at them in that awful battle heat. <br />It's a tale too big for writing; it's beyond the voice or pen, <br />But it glows among the splendor of the bravest deeds men. <br /> <br />It's recorded as a battle, but I fancy it will live, <br />As the brightest gem of courage human struggles have to give. <br />Inch by inch, they crawled to victory toward the flaming mounts of guns; <br />Inch by inch, they crawled to grapple with the barricaded Huns <br /> <br />On through fields that death was sweeping with a murderous fire, they went <br />Till the Teuton line was vanquished and the German strength was spent. <br /> <br />Ebbed and flowed the tides of battle as they've seldom done before; <br />Slowly, surely, moved the Yankees against all the odds of war. <br />For the honor of the fallen, for the glory of the dead, <br />The living line of courage kept the faith and moved ahead. <br />'They'd been ordered not to falter, and when night came on they stood <br />With Old Glory proudly flying o'er the trees of Belleau Wood.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/battle-of-belleau-wood/
