Soldiers never do die well; <br />Crosses mark the places - <br />Wooden crosses where they fell, <br />Stuck above their faces. <br />Soldiers pitch and cough and twitch - <br />All the world roars red and black; <br />Soldiers smother in a ditch, <br />Choking through the whole attack.<br /><br />Ernest Hemingway<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/champs-d-honneur/
