To our young men, war is an opportunity

for posturing youthful swagger.

With arrogance and recklessness

head first or by cloak and dagger.

 

Half-cocked, without a sensible thought.

No consideration for what’s ahead.

Forward. Running into eternity. 

Future decided, they’re already dead.

 

To our old men, war is considered a just cause,

detached by age from real events

What’s lost is more than we could gain

'less, you’re a king or president 

 

physically too old now, impotent,

irrational thoughts running through their head

Eternity has already spoken

The old men living, are our living dead

 

To our departed men, war was hope against hope

Blatantly sent to their slaughter,

fighting with those in their present,

For their future sons and daughters.

 

But why in reality did you fight?

For peace? For cooperation in the world?

You couldn't have been further from the truth

Like you, we're draped in death shrouds unfurled

 

To our survivors, we apologise for war

we're sorry that you suffered then,

Sorry, you're still suffering now,

We are governed by unwise men.

 

Bravely, you gave all. No more could we ask.

You deserve our respect, our gratitude

As heroes, you returned without fanfare

just empty political platitudes

 

To paraphrase General WT Sherman.

''You’ve been through bloody wars and you should know.'' 

''You’ve seen cities and homes in their demise. 

''seen thousands of men lying on the ground, ''

''their dead faces looking up through dead eyes. ''

''You tell us, ''

            ''War is Hell''