Axis & Allies - damowords

Sanguine Stalemate
Drunk on rum & bloodshed the Greyʹs chargʹd on;
No voice nor blast could halt the lusty heart
Careering round each small yet deadly gun,
Wreaking revenge for those they blew apart;
Heroic fray,
Fought in that danger zone,
Safety skulkʹd far away as their mounts became blown.
He watchʹd as thoʹ struck by thunder,
A terrible sight to see,
Then cast the Polish Lancer
Ginʹ the milling cavalry,
With the promise of no quarter
They spearʹd the enemy,
Slaying spent stragglers with furious zest,
Oft times twenty lances puncturʹd the chest.
The plain was litterʹd with the slain
Like shrapnel from a bomb,
While fresh cocaine sped to his brain
He rode back to Rossome,
Screaming, ʺWhere the fuck is Grouchy Where are these English
from!ʺ
Rossome
14:30
Wellingtonʹs Caution
The field lay taken by an eerie calm,
But for the musketryʹs endless rattle
Rising from the blazing Hougoumont farm,
A fierce battle within a fierce battle;
Across the ground
Ten thousand corpses strewn,
Aftʹ that first frightful round eʹen the stout‐hearted swoon.
Young Ensign Stewart braved the crest,
Peerʹd into the smoky haze,
Saw tranquil horses, riderless,
On bleeding leg‐stumps graze,
Watchʹd silent, white & motionless
Whilst wounded Deathʹs knell raise ‐
Til BOOM! throʹ thʹair cooling cannonball cuts,
Punctures his belly, out trail white worm guts.
The ridge became a smoking pyre,
Thʹarmy turnʹd to spaces,
ʺTo dodge this fire we shall retire
Back a hundred paces!ʺ
Breathing relief, that hot‐spot left, warʹs pain on strainʹd faces.
The Ridge of Mont Saint‐Jean
15:30