war for peace?

Men together, yet so alone Once fallen on these solemn plains, You become a statistic, ink on paper. Grave marked only by a blood red flower. The monotonous march, through the mud Shreds of metal launched towards you, At speeds unbeatable by man, The flare peeves on their backs, Highlighting them for evacuation from this world. They continue marching for their goal though. A goal where only more death awaits. Pain of peers, anguish of their families, Caused by orders from a distant, demigod director. Glory does not wait, on these fields of suffering, They are just breeding grounds for further conflict, This is not aiding the cause of peace, Instead driving it into the shadows. Yet men still march, having learnt nothing.