For those who we lost.

Rain pelting down against their faces they lower they heads moving forward, at a bruised pace. Backs hunched, arms weak and feat sore they bite down and force this motion, knowing what lies ahead. As each man dares not look ahead at he horizon each one remembers events that may all be wiped out if they do not survive; each man driven by different memories, yet all seem the same. Mud splashing over their boots pants caked in blood and mud they all suffer, just wanting it all too end, but the knowledge of it never ending bites at them, like a wolf eating its meal. Noises muffling any and all taking they bare it all just trying to fight over the bodies too their next post, just wishing it all would end; the terror driving the strongest of men to their knee's as falling comrades riddle the country side. Lost battles never needed men killed for a purpose out of their hands, yet all were willing and sure of why they came; but too their families it was all to hard too bare. As minutes and seconds turn to hours all stops hazard another casualties, forcing all to continue to move its hard to bring even a second step forward over a mound; it brings all muscles to a continuous scream as they cry to just rest, but can't.
Stop. Listen. It rips through them all, each and every man look to each other face stricken with fear as that rusty gear sound becomes a little louder to each one of them; as they have done before they run forward exerting what energy they have too, dive into that trench ahead; for the knowledge of that tank coming, is enough too cause the lot to cry. As each and everyone of them make it they begin a frantic scurry all carrying the knowledge that with a tank, comes a force; being a weak 200 men they can't afford many loses...but its a hard fact too swallow, the enemy is large and more powerful. One by one they all get ready with their shotty guns, failing hand guns, and what ever else they still have, just praying to what ever god that they make it through, not only for themselves but for their families. Heavy foot steps sounding with the tank, the first little wave crawls out of the trench, pleading that they are not seeing, and just waiting for that opening; just wishing this was a dream. Thats when all hopes get shattered 'BOOM' dirt goes flying as a single man lost in a display of mud, it happened, what they feared came true...bullets firing at well, bombs going off, and people screaming. The battle starts for what purpose, is only known too these soldiers, slowly working their way back as the enemy charges forward. The trench alights with grenades flying over and shattering the target hindering them useless. While the battle rages on people cry, people scream, deaths happen and lives are spared but on either side of the field each person is the same; each one driven by the single fact that they just want freedom, but in the end its not known who will get that freedom. All the men falling and living playing a part in what is demanded of them, each and everyone serving a purpose for a greater good; yet they all have a single though in their minds ' I just want to leave? I just want to see my wife, and kids again.. Why am I here?' Yet on all those resolute faces all that is seen is fear and pain, each bullet shot is a new wound earned.
Bodies falling bullets fading, the sound of war silences as a winner looks around; its over...that little skirmish that took lives, is over; but for how long until the next? Its never clear when it will happen again, all that is certain that in the mass of bodies there are falling friends, and family, who played their part, and did the deed.
Smoke settling, sky clearing, desolate landscape is all thats left; will these people ever recover? Will they lead a normal life? As far as each man, and boy alike can tell this is not the end, its never the end, just a false hope as the sky opens and warms their caked skins with sun. But one day, it will end. They hold onto that last remaining hope, using it as the only thing keeping them going; that the one day they come home they get too see their families again. Having the feeling of love wash over them, that feeling that got torn from them as they stepped into this hell.
To all those who fought for us, who lost their lives, who came home missing a part. We thank you; We thank each and everyone of you for giving what was needed and losing what should have been kept. From the bottom of all our hearts we Remember you! Each and every soul that used a courage that is beyond all of us, who fought for a dream of a freedom that would one day give us liberty's. None of you knew what would happen, or come from this, but in the end when you stepped on home turf you knew you had done right. And too all those who lost your life, and to all the families that suffered a heavy loss we appreciate all that you gave, and what you lost. You were the bold few that even in the face of possible death you gave a yell and faught like the devil for what you knew was true in your heart. We can never thank you enough, and will never be able too comprehend what you went through; but each and every generation will never forget the life you gave so we could keep ours.

We thank you. All of us, from the bottom of our hearts, we thank you. And we shall hold your flame burning bright, letting all who left this world know that you, did great.