Each campaign the morale continues to wane

Not for lack of courage and not due to pain

Those who serve don't for personal gain

They stand to at their posts waiting to be slain

Each one must battle their loneliest thoughts

But none will waiver, draw straws or cast lots

They sit and listen to the distant shots

They look ahead from the battle just fought

You're unlikely to find an eager defender

Their hearts forged of iron, their flesh tender

Their chances of survival less than slender

Yet the old guard dies, and never surrenders