A screeching cry like wailing Gorgons,

The firing of Stalin’s organs,

A brume of smoke and ash fills the air,

A frightening call to those who dare.

Men jump forth from their protective trench,

Some free of wound, some in blood drenched,

A gunshot bellows and splits the sky,

As yet another man falls and dies.

The rockets roar and the engines hum,

Wounded men thrash and cry out for Mum,

Bayonets clash and warhammers pound,

Blood and guts are dashed across the ground.

Somewhere on the front there is a man,

Hiding away as long as he can,

But thunder beckons and he stands up,

Quivering much like a frightened pup.

His lips tremble, tears drop from his eyes,

He knows any minute he could die,

But now was the time to make his stand,

To battle on for God and homeland.