Thursday Riddle (Jan 9, 2014)

One hundred thousand ginger-headed troops
Abandon ranks and hide behind the rocks
While down at them a flock unfeathered swoops
Of blind, yet guided, wingless silver hawks;

 They take the soldiers, each one to his death,
But not before they bleach their bodies white,
Delighting in the odors in their breath,
While spent grenades mourn silently their plight.

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