A very poor man's Kipling

I thought I would try a different style, I doubt I will try it again, its what happens when I read Kipling, too bad

The Ballad of Nowzad Qaleh, 2009
When Wolf and Grey Wolf meet there will be no talk of dogs.
HESCO barriers & concertina wire marked the line between us and them
The new day’s sun purpled the sky casting pale light upon the scene, a dead city lay before
Kipling new it in 1889, the Russians knew it in 1979, we know it is 2009
Afghanistan is the land where there is “neither East nor West”
Here is that nether space, Here is where strong men stand face to face each day
Here in Now Zad, the city of the dead, no-mans land,
The bazaar streets are silent, the empty stalls stare out, vacant sockets in a sun bleached skull
There is no life but the jackal and the marten
No human soul strolls the dusty streets
No cook fires burn, no smoke rises from the chimneys
No hawkers sell their wares
Three years gone by, three years of abandonment and war
The war killed the city
The towers fell, the Al Qaeda attacked, then we attacked, we attacked with fury, then nothing
Now Zad lay quietly in the Tor Gar unsuspecting, the UN came, USAID built wells, schools and clinics, government stood up and police roamed a sleepy town, no kafir troops stayed in the city
Years past, then the wolves returned, The Taliban, rangy, hungry men, desperate men who drove the government the police out
The Talibs taxed the wells, the schools closed, the clinics shuttered, and the people left
The city died
The valley hushed in silence of the tomb
Then the Eagle came back, with him came the Lion they drove the wolves from the tomb
Now the city lays in the morning stillness, the wolves prowling on the edges staring hungrily at the Eagles perch.
They on their side of the valley and we on the other each day brings conflict, a high stakes game each looking for the others tell.
Each side watches the rising sun, and the dawn of a new day, cool wind whips the rain down the valley, mud puddles in still pools, the pools shake
A blast echoes up the valley, the radio sounds, gunfire in the background
The Corpsmen scramble
Helos tear up the sky, the thin trail of an RPG arcs out over the roof tops vainly seeking the sleek bodied snake. The viper turns and snaps 20mm fangs pour venom into the , they scatter, Hellfire follows
The dull whomp of mortars shake the ground; plumes of phosphorus and the thud of high explosive fill the air
Radios crackles with life, many ears listen
The video monitors stream the scene, the electric eyes & ears seek the wolves, they cannot hide
Rockets fall from the sky,
Zeus’s lightning bolts, deadly accurate, the ground shakes the smoke rises high above the Tor Gar.
Machine guns rip the air, mortars fire, the Cobra’s run in low and fast, rockets and guns, rockets and guns
Tracers respond letting us know they are still alive and full of fight
Both sides fight, "both jest at the dawn with Death"
The price is high
Only the jackals in Quetta laugh
Here and now there are no dogs only wolves, and there can be only one alpha
The B1’s check in, grids are passed, bombs drop, direct hits, secondary explosions
Just another day in the city of the dead