"Death comes with quotas to fill..."

Death comes with quotas to fill:

"Who here is ready to die?

Who here will come at will?"

But silence is her reply.

Death, agitated, again:

"I've traveled a lengthy road..."

From the back of the room, a man

stands up and clears his throat:

"Outside the city gates,

Some fifteen miles or so,

A column of tanks awaits,

All of them - ready to go.

Go or wait here. Either way,

You'll find the volunteers ,

Foreigners, who have strayed,

Wet still behind the ears.

Many will go when called.

The others - just let them know

Go elsewhere, as we had told

Their warship just days ago."