My great uncle died by gas in June 1918, aged 18 years and 6 months after a mere 6 or so weeks in France. I’ve read letters from his unit describing his experience and it horrifies me to imagine what he went through in the hours between his inhalation of the chemical and eventual death. Wilfred Owen’s poem moves me to tears every time I hear it and I thank you Ben for that jolt of reality.
The war poets were very much part of the curricu;um back in the day and I remember them well... Perhaps a push to pacifism after such horror..., Are they on the curriculum now?
that ice cream van gave the whole reading a curious taint
right!
A short but powerful broadcast! Or rather, perhaps, the brevity provided the power.
thanks Paul, glad you enjoyed it
Great stuff Ben, thanks.
Us and the elites then and now separated in time, space and purpose.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori; 'It is sweet and fitting to die for ones country.' Who in the UK today would agree with that sentiment?
My great uncle died by gas in June 1918, aged 18 years and 6 months after a mere 6 or so weeks in France. I’ve read letters from his unit describing his experience and it horrifies me to imagine what he went through in the hours between his inhalation of the chemical and eventual death. Wilfred Owen’s poem moves me to tears every time I hear it and I thank you Ben for that jolt of reality.
Poignant shares Ben, thank you. I'll contribute a war poem here too that I still think about a lot, being Keith Douglas' "Vergissmeinnicht":
--
Three weeks gone and the combatants gone
returning over the nightmare ground
we found the place again, and found
the soldier sprawling in the sun.
--
The frowning barrel of his gun
overshadowing. As we came on
that day, he hit my tank with one
like the entry of a demon.
--
Look. Here in the gunpit spoil
the dishonoured picture of his girl
who has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnicht.
in a copybook gothic script.
--
We see him almost with content,
abased, and seeming to have paid
and mocked at by his own equipment
that’s hard and good when he’s decayed.
--
But she would weep to see today
how on his skin the swart flies move;
the dust upon the paper eye
and the burst stomach like a cave.
--
For here the lover and killer are mingled
who had one body and one heart.
And death who had the soldier singled
has done the lover mortal hurt.
The war poets were very much part of the curricu;um back in the day and I remember them well... Perhaps a push to pacifism after such horror..., Are they on the curriculum now?
i thought you were posting interview with Brian this eve!
but Seigfried is poignant