smallhobbit | All Quiet on the Western Front

The civilians had stayed as long as they could, but the ceaseless shelling of their town had taken its toll, and when the Germans began to use chlorine gas not far away, they admitted they would have to leave. Carrying what possessions they could they were evacuated, leaving behind shattered memories, like so much broken glass fallen on the floors of what had once been their homes. Their men away fighting, or dead or disabled, they left their town to the British soldiers, unaware, as yet, of the further sacrifices which would still be demanded before they could finally return.
(Written for Drabble_zone 'Glass' prompt)

The orders came through
They went out of the trenches
To die in thousands
Neither name nor rank nor creed
All were equal at the end

They stood silently as the buglers sounded the Last Post, remembering their forefathers who had made the long journey from Australia to fight and die in a small country half a world away. They watched as the wreaths were laid, recalling actions from one hundred years before. Surrounded by a monument bearing the names of nearly 55,000 of the fallen who had no known grave, they could not fail to be moved. They listened as the leader of their group read the exhortation from Laurence Binyon’s poem, and in their turn they echoed the final line:

“We will remember them!”(Written for 100words 'Tradition' prompt)

White as the snowflakes just starting to fall
White as the roses remembered from home
White as the chalk in the ground they would cover
White as the faces hiding their fear
White as the bones which were all that was found
White as the grave stone - one amongst many