No swifter victory has been obtained

These generals are cowards to the core,

although so pretty in their parade kit

they lack the basic skill of waging war.

Not one of them can recall the least bit 

of what they learnt of tactics and command,

and action fills their uniforms with shit.

You will not see them in hard battle stand,

but scream at sight of soldiers, and then run,

while the opponent laughs and thinks it grand

to see them flee before they’ve fired a  gun.

When war’s this easy there’s no need to fight,

just point your weapons, and enjoy the fun.

You need no tactics, your risks are so slight 

when they see you they piss their pants in fear,

and, lacking orders, turn their heels in flight.

This enemy would never think to dare

advance to worry a superior force,

possessing knowledge that they quake in fear.

Thus this encounter follows no hard course,

and is so easy, far beyond belief, 

that they’d capitulate to a dead horse.

One side, we know, will never come to grief

but take its victory with a broad smile.

The artillery laughs out in relief, 

and infantry is happy for this while.

The field commander tells his men to charge.

The running enemy can’t make a mile

before they halt, and cease to be at large.

One more such battle and the war is won;

there’s happy laughter from private and sarge,

who stand amazed how easy it was done,

and seeing swiftly they’ll obtain the win:

A war without a skirmish, that’s straight fun.

No bullet will, in anger, touch a skin,

the chaplain chants a hymn of praise to Mars,

with on his face a wide and joyous grin,

since actual conflict was not in the stars.

At such a speed as never seen before;

not for a moment in all other wars 

had any victory been obtained so fast,

that this false battle, at once first and best,

would be both easiest, and be the last.

This was the only military test,

it was so simple they could not believe 

grown men could flee with such appalling zest,

at such a pace that it could not deceive,

even the most suspicious of all men,

in gratitude his mother need not grieve,

as it was clear they’d never strike again

at such a target that so quickly fell

not one combatant felt a touch of pain.

Instead there was a story they would tell 

of such a battle over in swift time

as to suggest the enemy could smell

defeat arriving in a single chime,

and so departed in unruly haste.

So here I’m ending with this simple rhyme.