Four old generals preside over a map.
One eager to begin the year’s first attack.
Another seeks to halt the slaughter his men face.
The third wishes to hold, for his men lost will for pace.
The fourth stands feared above all.
Such quiver from all hearing his army’s call.
Tanks and men torn asunder, paled in the wake.
The war of attrition, his trademark game.
His name is a factor to every plan made.