As the Anzacs were marching down the track.
Gunfire and the yelling of commands were the only noises.
The rain fell as hard as the stones they stood on.
The troop clothe they wore was slowly rotting.
No plant did grow on the battle field.
The mail from the soldier 's family gave them hope and happiness.
The men were wounded fell to the ground, as the sound of the exploding shells echoed all around.
The brave men were dying from disease and there was only one crate of tinned food left of off meat,potatoes and one or two more vegatables.
The fruit was rotten or diseased just like the men marching across the battle feild with their heads held high with pride of fighting for their country.
As they show pictures of their family, by the warm side of the glowing flame, while singing god save the queen.
Eating the last bag of raisins, after a while they began to sleep as sadness crept into the heart of the Anzacs.
The trenches over flowing withmud and weapons to somehow destroy the enemies.
the blankets staind with blood and wet with tears.
As they wake early, for the coming battles.
The men run out after the first command, wishing they were home with their loved ones.
Some of the soldiers do great deeds saviing the men, those soldiers may gain the Victorian Cross.
Men cried and screamed as they got shot from the bullets.
But hope still ran through their hearts, they belived they could live and that love and laughter would soon come again.
They will come again.
Least we forget
