My questions are blowing in the wind

The front line on the battlefield is composed of humiliated, shoeless teenage soldiers.
Minutes after an oil tanker spilled into the ocean, a burning fighter jet fell right into it.
Global warming is causing the troubled water to rise above the bridge.
The defense industry was on mushroom cloud nine.
Both ours and the enemy’s overpowering furies shrunk every peace keeper’s high horse to a chess knight.
Even my questions are blowing in the wind.
The last battle was an invisible one.
All of this is why postcards from Hell are always free