
Originally Posted by
Anon The men under the sign of the hawk,
They recognize each other by their faces.
They shake each other's hands.
They don't talk.
When others talk and brag
They grow hard and silent,
In their hearts turned to steel
The horror lives on.
The horror of uncounted deaths
When they screamed,
Their comrades in need,
When they put their hands up begging,
Reddened by their shed blood
The horror in the roaring of grenades,
In the crashing salvoes,
When the earth convulses and groans,
Burning like judgement day.
They were lying in the throat of Hell.
They were soldiers,
Doing their duty.