We were told to hate the enemy.
But all we really hated was the mud
And the death
And the stench
And the gas
And the rats.

Sometimes we would watch the rats
As they clawed at each other
Fighting around,
Rolling
Stomping
Sinking miserably into the mud.

Other times we would watch the rats fight,
Fight so meaninglessly
Over nothing at all.
They would squabble over a body
Or a ration
Maybe even another rat
And they would fight each other.
Others would join
Every rat would be dragged into a brawl and
Not one would ever win.

We laughed at the rats
How stupid of them
They ran around all day driven by fear.
How they trembled and shook
How they scampered and tripped
How they drowned
And starved
And gathered lice
And lost any hope they once held.

Those rats lived every day
Knowing it could be their last
Because one false step meant
Death.

But their death was never merciless.
They would cry
And scream
And upon the death of one
Some of us cleared their bodies
And others paid no mind
For we had learned not to mind death long ago.

Oh how foolish the rats were,
And to be fair,
What foolish rats were we.