The Defenders Poem by Claude Simpson

Trapped and so desperate to be free;
Problems surfaced which were not pleasing to see.

Victims were still in the zone fighting to survive;
Resisting the hardships only to keep alive.

Just pain, distress and the unbearable heat;
With no food to eat, only mere hunger in the deep.

Many took turns to help though ideas were shifting
While others made strenuous efforts in assisting.

There was no way to ease the discomfort
But everyone struggled and put out an effort.

Doors may now be opened but then no one could bank on luck.
In time, things would have crumbled and all access shut.

The Chief entered on a parachute
The war plan seemed different
To survey, test and execute.

It's waging war with harsh terror;
Warriors from all directions
Preparing to demolish without sorrow.

The shouts were like a chorus;
Not a stranger to discourse
Tortured defenders drained weak and full of mucus.

Every day was much of the same;
Though seemingly strong
The comfort zone was distastefully lame.

Day after day it was fight, fight by the warriors;
Help needed by tyro defenders;
Only a few miles away were helpless observers.

Unable to help their neighbors;
Frightened and scared of the warriors
But it's 'death before dishonor' for the tyros.