What if?

A flutter of pages makes for an incoming shell
For only those who are great
dare embrace the hand of capital hell
Forward they fell.

Forward, to the brutal embrace of sleep eternal
Muddied glades their last pillow
Symbolic: The minor depression of both nature's hands.
Have you heard grown men scream on dark Winter nights?
It is a cruel fate, paralleled by no other.
That brand new shiny canister holds enough potency for a thousand men and more..
Our top men have been working on it for months!
The most expensive thing, hundreds others lying there on the ground,
yet we willfully destroyed our most expensive asset.
An unsurmountable advantage, and a necessary evil to win the divine fight

Evil will never triumph again
As we sucked the moisture right out of their lungs;
suffocated the wretched blackness in one fell swoop.
They choked under clouded stars, frostbitten hands clawing at their swollen throats;
one even prayed, a fool making words which had no breath to make them.
As if God could hear their blasted prayers.
Who knows what they thought of with their dying...breaths?
Nothing of purity, that is sure.

Gradually, it slowed, and the call came in from HQ to advance,
pick off the survivors.
But there were none.
Just cold leather boots to meet like-minded flesh,
Frostbitten fingers clenching cold metallic guns
I smile, and holster my pistol once more.

Thank God that particular demon can't return, and we vanquished their atrocious ways once and for all.
Imagine what'd happen if they won!