The stats at the end are for both sides of the war, not just my British perspective.
The events don't flow in order, but it doesn't matter, because the message of the poem is convey the sheer amount of soldiers that died in a war that would not "end all wars" like people originally thought and was ultimately: pointless.
All of a sudden the shelling does stop.
I can hear the Regiment Officer
barking orders for us to get up top.
"The Germans have begun their assault!"
Our machine guns tear them to shreads,
While all but few are weary of where he treads,
Mines planted under their advance,
Stop their conquest of France.
This is the case across the Western Front,
A stalemate. As sure as a hammer is blunt.
We have stopped the Kaiser's forces,
Without the need of horses.
Calavry was supposed to turn the tide of war,
But trenches shaped Europe like never before.
New methods of warfare would render,
Who will have won or lost.
In the end it was the German surrender,
The war was won, but not without great cost:
Almost 10 million dead,
Both sides of the war ran blood red.
More than 20 million injured,
More than was originally pictured.
Almost 8 million missing in action,
Presumed dead by each faction.