I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
Suicide in the trenches, Siegfried Sassoon, published in the Cambridge Magazine, 23 February 1918
I saw an interview with Rupert Grint today. He was wearing a poppy on his T-shirt. Bless him.
ReplyDeleteI saw a documentary recently about a young soldier sent to Iraq who came home paralysed from injury...
ReplyDeleteThe film showed all he went through in a day, dressing, toileting, etc. It also showed him comparing notes with a Vietnam veteran who went through the same type of injury, and they both concluded that the Vietnam-era vet actually received better rehabilitation and support than the young soldier.
Armistice should not be about parades and showing off. I think we owe our soldiers much more...
Sorry for the small step on the soapbox, Dash, and thanks for the poem here.
A fitting tribute. e xxx
ReplyDeleteWow. very moving. Thanks xx
ReplyDeleteThat poem says it all...young men sent off and their lives become hell....it is so wrong this warring that we do....please stop....
ReplyDeleteLovely tribute xx
ReplyDeleteMy older brother fought in Viet Nam, he is suffering the consequences of Agent Orange and the government continues to refuse to help. Ceremonies are healing emotionally but do not help the injured living in the least.
ReplyDeleteThat was a beautiful poem you posted,one I had never read before, thank you for sharing it.
X David, NYC