Theirs Not To Be So Stupid

Those who love the military bureaucratic complex love death, as this poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson clearly shows. Nowadays, murder is furtive, hiding its ugliness under its robes of Human Rights, and Responsibility To Protect.  Imperial England regarded war as the highest form of activity. Compulsory education, regimentation and Moralist hypocrisy produced to a population who corrupted all values.
But much braver than these idiots is the Peasant who stays at home and serves his wife and his family.

'Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in the air,
Sabr'ing the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered.
Plunged in the battery smoke,
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!'