The Victory march

I heard the bells
Far away, they were singing
Of victory : The city, they said
Had fallen; And they were singing
Canons, bullets and shrieks;
The music was soft, piercing.

How many moments did we have
Before our flags were to be burned?
Murmurs of escape kept floating
The distant fire was just a gimmick,
Among hurried voices and records
I stood, engulfed in flames of failure.

It is ready, the General whispered
I looked at him, pondering over
My decision. Was I playing God?
"Sir", he waited. I touched
The cold red button, I took a moment;
The final one, triggering the third  in history.