Memorial Day remembrances

Going through the paper today, I came across this article written like a poem. I'm not sure who wrote this but its quite beautiful and haunting.

They rose like fog in a deep, dark valley,
Leaving the blood-stained earth,
The smell of gunpowder,
The stench of sweat and burned flesh.
Leaving behind their broken bodies
On the fields of Shiloh and Manassas,
Of Chancellorsville and Antietam,
At Gettysburg where they gave their
Last full measure of devotion,
And joined the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
They rose from the blood-stained earth
At Belleau Wood and Chateau-Thierry,
from the muddy trenches,
from the clouds of poison gas,
from the snipers' deadly mark.
They rose from the blood-stained earth
At Somme and Normandy,
At Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima,
The bodies of the soldiers they were,
Buried at Colleville-sur-Mer in France,
At Ardennes in Belgium,
At Nettuno in Italy.
And joined the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
The heroes of Inchon and Chosin
Rose from the blood-stained earth
And joined their eternal brothers
And sisters, fathers and grandfathers
On the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
They rose from the blood-stained earth,
From the rice fields and the jungles
Along the Mekong, at Da Nang
And at Khe Sanh.
Far away and dangerous places
Where terrible things were seen,
And terrible things were experienced.
They rose and joined the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
At Kosovo and Kabul and Kandahar,
They rose from the blood-stained earth,
Rose like fog in a deep, dark valley
And joined the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
And still the line grows longer
With each passing day,
Stretching beyond the horizon,
Stretching our ability to remember.
Hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands
Joining the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
Dead in Mosul, dead in Kirkuk,
Dead in Najaf, dead in Tikrit,
Dead in Fallujah, dead in ...
And they march and they march
and more and more they march
And we can only kneel and beg
That those we know and love
Will not join them as they march,
Will not join those who rise
From the blood-stained earth
Like a fog, joining in the march,
Taking their place on the long, ghostly march
Of Americans dead from combat.
And the sounds of bagpipes and bugles
Echo with the playing of "taps,"
And we pray again for the brave,
For Americans dead from combat.
Amen. Amen. And Amen.