This is a sort of Parody to Walt Whitman's poem "A March in the Ranks Hard-Prest" im not much of a port so I did it in Pose and I really rather like it Whitman's narrator made me think of Ratchet so I rearranged thinks to be on Cybertron not to long after the War began. This can be seen as an AU I Suppose it is set before Ratchet joins Optimus directly his just a rather Green field medic here. If you'd like to read the poem just Google it, it comes up.

I don't own anything I'm in to much debut to own any part of Transformers or A March in the Ranks Hard-Prest they belong to there owners. =P

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All around us is nothing but destruction it obscures everything, the ruins of this once great city now lay dark and empty. Our feet make little sound as we march on. I'm hard put to even see to the darkened sky past the half toppled structures that surround us nothing looks as it once did and my platoon has become lost in the hast of retreat. We lost many this orn past, the Decepticon completely over whelmed us.

Dim light can be seen from a building ahead. A clearing in the wasteland we wander suddenly opens before us and in its heart is a large old Temple to Primus turned hospital we halt in the unsteady light coming from it's half there windows. I venture in if only for a moment, perhaps I can help while the lieutenant gets our bearings. The sight beyond the doors is not something easily put to words, Shadows of deepest, deepest black, barley lit by dim flickering lights. By these lights I can just make out the vague forms of mechs and femme strun across the floor and on pews to be tended to. A small noise draws my eyes down to the floor were by my feet lays a youngling leaking to death, a vicious shot having ripped through his abdomen. I quickly do all I can for the young mech, far to young to be involved in this horror filled war, I weld his main energon line closed to stop the leaking but so many other vital parts have been damaged or destroyed there's really little I can do, his body is already beginning to loss color to dull.

When I can do no more I let my optics sweep across the crowded room trying to absorb all I see. Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of old energon and other mech fluids seems to assaults my senses a new. So many forms all covered in ether there own or others life fluids there every where even filling the yard outside some on the bare ground others on sheets of scrap metal or stretchers some already fading to dull shades on the very brink of the matrix. An occasional scream or cry rents the air as the medics shout orders or call for different parts. The Surgeons instruments catch the dim lights and glisten almost menacingly even though there meant to save. I began to chant an old prayer to primus low under my breath as I continue to breather the sickening odor on the air I suddenly hear my lieutenant's voice over my comm. ordering me to fall in but first I bend back down to the dying youngling at my feet his optics are open yet dim he gives me a weak half smile then his optics go dark his colors fade completely and I speed forth back in to the darkness, the ruins. My platoon marches on to our next rendezvous point and though we now know our way I am feeling more lost then ever along this unknown road I am marching.

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Well there you have it if you'd leave me at least a "hey I kinda liked that" or a positive smiley ^_^ it's absolutely make my day thanks!!!!

PS: Hey if anyone can think of a slightly better summary pleases let me know I'll give you credit I'm just not totally pleased with mine. Thanks Again ^-^