Where is my Glory?
A Cold Harbor Poem
We marched, we served
We fought bravely
We killed brave men
We watched brave men die around us
We hungered and thirsted an end
Perhaps a short trip home...
But it did not come
We were ordered to attack again
And again... we did
We had no cover
Some fell for protection
many fell forever
Waist high fire from across the field
forced the living to crawl like worms
and dig like moles
for shelter from the rain
of hellish lead
Dig we did, with what we had
Bayonets, spoons or shards of metal
Moaning and screaming
All about
For each that stopped,
another began
Some managed to dig their graves
the fortunates dug deeper
We wallowed in the mud and the blood
for days
Til ordes came to retreat
Back past our fallen brothers
who died by the thousands there
Then on again towards Richmond
When will somebody care?
The talk says "The rebs are worn out"
That they might be ready to quit
tell it please, to those rebs at Cold Harbor
For they have heard none of it
By Bubs McKeag
This page was last updated on: October 28, 2001