These next three parts of Der Kriegsglück fit better with the poem as a whole and don't hold up quite as well by themselves.
IX.
Mince the bodies. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Torsos and heads.
Hands and limbs.
Die. Kill.
Mold yourself in the dirt.
Under the tank treads.
Fall in upon the game.
There, a smart knock of skulls.
Now’s the time. Pop. Pop. Pop.
It’s time. It’s time.
Stand tall in face of death.
Hurl fists. Pump up chests.
Smell the burning fire.
Fall in upon the grave.
X.
A rat crept softly through the vegetation.
A wasteland. Smog and smoke.
A winter evening, burning coke.
Beyond the eyelids is the fire
Can you taste it? Can you hear it?
The flash of Russian death. (Of death by fire.)
Crowded trenches. Bodies deep.
The heirs of empire.
Clogged with blood and promises.
So many a forgotten daughter.
Throats long for baptism water.
XI.
Listen to letters.
Hold that cross tight.
Pictures in backpacks.
Lovers in dreams.
Breasts and legs and lips.
Warmth they never knew.
Lost in the shuddering bodies of comrades.
Dying eyes. Bloody mouths.
To wives. And girlfriends.
To nights in another world.
The peace of the sheets.
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