The American poet Joyce Kilmer, best known for his verse "Trees" was killed by a German Sniper in 1918. He wrote several poems from the front, including this one:
Prayer of a Soldier in France (1918)
My shoulders ache beneath my pack
(Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).
I march with feet that burn and smart
(Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart).
Men shout at me who may not speak
(They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek).
I may not lift a hand to clear
My eyes of salty drops that sear.
(Then shall my fickle soul forget
Thy Agony of Bloody Sweat?)
My rifle hand is stiff and numb
(From Thy pierced palm red rivers come).
Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me
Than all the hosts of land and sea.
So let me render back again
This millionth of Thy gift. Amen.
'''''''''
I enjoyed the commentary on Sassoon's poem "The Hero". War is not pretty brave soldiers battling in sunny fields. It's dirt and mud and heat and the cries of the wounded.... Sometimes we need to be reminded that war is "all hell".