"I got your back," I said hesitantly from the ranks placed just behind him,
I was down on my knees with the pike firmly anchored in the soft soil,
Their soldiers spilled forth and fearful glances between us echoed hope dim,
As they screamed their charging war cry as if their blood had started to boil.

"I'll take them down," he boastfully claimed his confidence way too bold,
For they were legion and we were weak from days of marching and hunger,
And neither of us truly accepted the rumours of reinforcements we're told,
It's all just false hope to stop men deserting spread by the gossip monger.

"Hold until I spike them good," I whispered in his ear as he looked back,
How they run with such abandon to meet their death head-on in haste,
Swords at the ready, clubs and axes raised glinting in the sun, arrows attack,
As comrades fell like threshed wheat my tears escaped at the human waste.

"Brace yourself my friend," he cried as like locusts they swarmed on our army,
My pike...