There's Nothing More We Can Do

I only have one word for this poem wow! so deep, and professional, espically for you age! you have a writing wisdom far beyond your years, most of the kids on my school that are seniors couldn't do 1/25 as good as you did in this poem, i won't worry sbout the kstakes cause they've already been pointed out

Wow. What a great poem!

Somehow it doesn't seem to me as if it is about the wars today. Maybe it was written in the past or perhaps in the future. Is that just me?

Here are some suggestions:

We try to smile as we descend into doom,
neither one of us daring to talk in (You single out two people her -neither one of us- but after this stanza only refer to the group - we)
fear of what would come out our mouths.
Those who have everything to say are now (This is a chilling line but so great)
quietened. Our hearts beat fast.

Knees begin to shake as we approach the fields.
We line up, dressed for battle, packs slung over
our shoulders. We listen, subdued to our own thoughts and nothing more.
'Good luck,' I whisper, but I get no reply.(Again, chilling but good)

I peer about the line, every blank face vacant.(By definition blank faces are vacant, maybe take out one of the words)
Suddenly the gates are opened to us, inviting yet repulsive.
As we file in, I gulp as I see my grave, the soil freshly dug. (So great!)
We die together.
I take my place in the front line.
Glancing back, I steal what might be my final look at those
who will fight today. We know that when, if we are freed,
we will not wait for those who have fallen to their own death pit.
All we can do is pray.

And pray we do.

We are hurtled with the heaviest of ammunition,
the quickest of bullets, the most armoured tanks.
All we can do is stand. Shrapnel pierces into the hearts
of men, their faces turned red.(If I'm wrong and this is based in the present, don't put only men because there are thousand of woman fighting, too)
The clocks tick upon our wrists.

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

They mock us. The long stretch of time trails
out before us, the hail plummeting down like
liquid bullets.
All we can do is wait.

And wait we do.

The trenches are instantly filled with the stench
of fear. Mud and blood mix, and the putrid air stales around us.
We try. (I don't think this line benefits anything. You really don't need it.)
We fight.
But neither side will give.
We lock eyes,
and we know.

Know that all we can do is fall.

And fall we do.