As an ambulance driver during World War I, Ernest Hemingway saw the worst of war, experiences that colored his stories and poetry. In July 1918, he was severely wounded and spent some time in military hospitals. His poems are overshadowed by his novels, but they offer a rare reflection on war and its human cost. This poem comes from one of his early collections, “Three Stories and Ten Poems,” which is in the public domain and available through Project Guttengerg at https://www.gutenberg.org/
CHAMPS D’HONNEUR
Soldiers never do die well;
Crosses mark the places—
Wooden crosses where they fell,
Stuck above their faces.
Soldiers pitch and cough and twitch—
All the world roars red and black;
Soldiers smother in a ditch,
Choking through the whole attack.
In the public domain.