blackout poem (the shrapnel is now ever in the sky halfway up the hill it was very peaceful down there it was difficult to realize that all around us was such hell just as the sun was setting we formed up for the final march off for the attack we were to attack at 7 sharp its 7 o´clock lads up we rushed the screams of the wounded bursting of the shells and the ear splitting crackling of the rifles all round could be seen the sparks where the bullets were striking a hail of bullets take cover you'll be killed.