War is Glorious

I've seen it all.
Men holding their intestines in their hands,
Screaming to the God that has forsaken them.
Men twitching on the ground,
Their bodies ablaze with the flames of Hell.
They can't scream, their lungs are singed.
But they are alive.
And they can feel it to the end.
They can feel the last bit of their scorched flesh
Turn into a crackling ember,
Ascending into the Heavens.

I've seen men get their throats slit.
Fountains of blood gush from their necks.
Their bodies writhe in futility.
Yeah, I've seen it.
They can see it, too.
The last thing their eyes feast on
Is their body's own blood,
As it rains down on their face.
They can't scream,
But they can choke
And gurgle
And sputter
Long after the deed is done.
Even after they drown in their own blood,
Their wounds weep with crimson tears.

Oh, I've seen worse than that, though.
Poison gas that eats you from the inside out.
Not just your blood flows from your mouth.
Your lungs do, too.
In frothy green chunks, covered in mucus your bodies produce
Trying desperately to stop the gas from entering the rest of your body.
You can feel it, too. The whole time.
And you know. But it's too late.
Nothing can save you.

Yes, I've seen men running across a field one second,
And in a burst of fire and a cloud of dust,
Lose their ability to run - forever.
But mines aren't that powerful, really.
They have just enough force to do the damage,
But not enough to pulverize the body parts they blow up.
So, chunks of flesh and bone are scattered.
Everywhere.
What used to be his legs,
Is now sprayed all over his comrades, drenching them.
A rogue grenade sends shrapnel askew,
One needle grazing a man's eyes from the side.
He is still alive, crying his eyes out.
Literally.
You can't tell if it's tears or blood.
He'll never know what his newborn child looks like.
That is, if he ever makes it out alive.

Ha, that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Not all men survive explosions.
Out of them, fewer return home in boxes.
Because not enough pieces can be found.
So they're labeled as "mission in action,"
In order to calm their families down.
They don't need to know the truth.
No one does.
They died in the line of duty.
Their duty was to die.

But really, think about it for a second...
War is glorious.
Can man really live without war?

I've seen it all.
I know the answer.