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The Ghost of world war one Hundred Years ago

 

 Kitchener-Britons

 

A young boy stood outside

The recruitment office door

One dark and foggy night,

The door’s swung open

The boy got a terrible fright

A Sergeant stood before him

bellowing with a thunderous voice,

Have you been here before boy?”

But the the boy just stood his ground

And eventually replied,

I’ve come to fight the war sir

I have experience you know,

I fought in world war one”

The Sergeant just laughed and said,

But that was a hundred year’s ago”

Oh no” the boy cried,

When a green mist appeared

It’s a gas attack”

Can you smell the stench

Of the chlorine-gas?”

He shouted out with a panic stricken face,

The Sergeant started to cough and splutter

His eyes became all sore,

The boy said “Don’t you remember

Was it you that sent me off to a war?

It was me that stood at your door,

One hundred years ago

But you must realise that I am just a ghost”

With this the Sargeant shook is head,

Then he remembered the story

Of the farmers boy,

who roamed the streets at night,

Was this his ghost?

Of that boy who lost his life

One dark and foggy night

One hundred years ago

 

Thomas Sims

 

Second_Battle_of_Ypres

The first German gas AttacksDate, Thursday 21 April – 25 May 1915….Field Marshal Sir John French, Commander-in-Chief of theBritishArmy, wrote:….At first the French officers assumed that the Germaninfantrywere advancing behind a smokeAfter thefirstGerman chlorinegas attacks

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Remembrance

They stand in rows like soldiers on parade

Those memorial stones in the war cemetery

A poignant of those gallant men

Who died fighting to protect our liberty

Many words have been written about the great war

Words which describe the living hell

Words which should have a profound effect on our thinking

Words which remind us of the brave words who tell

They were fighting for the honour of our country

They were fighting to ensure we stayed free

That is what their sacrifice was made for

That is something that should be etched in our memory

These sacrifices should often be in our thoughts

Not just once a year on Remembrance day

When we watch the veterans march past cenotaph

Paying their tribute as the bands their solemn music play

We should think about those who cherish our traditions

We should think about those who died on a foreign shore

To think about the present and the future of our country

And to ask ourselves if this is what they were fighting for

Ron Martin

Lest we forget


Have we forgotten their ultimate sacrifice?
Of these men and women who died in their millions?
Brave and true, without question,
proud to be British, not ashamed to be Christian.

So many years have passed,
it seems our memory doesn’t last.
Forgetting these courageous people, to our shame.
Why can’t we remember their names?

How short is our memory?
That we have forgotten them already?
Died in their millions fighting for our freedom,
believing in our free democratic ideology.

What does it take to wake up this country,
to rise once again from its complacency?
How much more do we take, before we decide to fight,
for our beliefs, our traditions and our liberty?

by Simon Icke UK

 

1940 DUNKERQUE !!!!

WILFRED OWEN – DULCE ET DECORUM EST – BEST KNOWN POEM OF THE FIRST WORLD WAR

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DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, 
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, 
Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs 
And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge. 
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots 
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; 
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4)  
Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.
Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, 
Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time; 
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, 
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . . 
Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light, 
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. 
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, 
He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning. 
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace 
Behind the wagon that we flung him in, 
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, 
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; 
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood 
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, 
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12)  
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, 
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)  
To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory, 
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est 
Pro patria mori.(15)

Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 – March, 1918

Notes on Dulce et Decorum Est

1.  DULCE ET DECORUM EST – the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean “It is sweet and right.” The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori – it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country.

2.  Flares – rockets which were sent up to burn with a brilliant glare to light up men and other targets in the area between the front lines (See illustration, page 118 of Out in the Dark.) 

3.  Distant rest – a camp away from the front line where exhausted soldiers might rest for a few days, or longer 

4.  Hoots – the noise made by the shells rushing through the air 

5.  Outstripped – outpaced, the soldiers have struggled beyond the reach of these shells which are now falling behind them as they struggle away from the scene of battle  

 6.  Five-Nines – 5.9 calibre explosive shells 

7.  Gas! –  poison gas. From the symptoms it would appear to be chlorine or phosgene gas. The filling of the lungs with fluid had the same effects as when a person drowned

8.  Helmets –  the early name for gas masks 

9.  Lime – a white chalky substance which can burn live tissue 

10.  Panes – the glass in the eyepieces of the gas masks 

11.  Guttering – Owen probably meant flickering out like a candle or gurgling like water draining down a gutter, referring to the sounds in the throat of the choking man, or it might be a sound partly like stuttering and partly like gurgling 

12.  Cud – normally the regurgitated grass that cows chew usually green and bubbling. Here a similar looking material was issuing from the soldier’s mouth 

13.  High zest – idealistic enthusiasm, keenly believing in the rightness of the idea 

14.  ardent – keen 

15.  Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori – see note 1 above.

These notes are taken from the book, Out in the Dark, Poetry of the First World War, where other war poems that need special explanations are similarly annotated. The ideal book for students getting to grips with the poetry of the First World War.

Pronunciation
The pronunciation of Dulce is DULKAY. The letter C in Latin was pronounced like the C in “car”. The word is often given an Italian pronunciation pronouncing the C like the C in cello, but this is wrong. Try checking this out in a Latin dictionary! 

 

Lest We Forget

lest-we-forget.mmmmmmmm

Have we forgotten their ultimate sacrifice?
Of these men and women who died in their millions?
Brave and true, without question,
proud to be British, not ashamed to be Christian.

So many years have passed,
it seems our memory doesn’t last.
Forgetting these courageous people, to our shame.
Why can’t we remember their names?

How short is our memory?
That we have forgotten them already?
Died in their millions fighting for our freedom,
believing in our free democratic ideology. 

What does it take to wake up this country,
to rise once again from its complacency?
How much more do we take, before we decide to fight,
for our beliefs, our traditions and our liberty?

Armed Forces Day in the UK 
Lest We Forget
by Simon Icke UK

War has no winners

 

When will man ever learn?
What wisdom needed to discern?
No killing is above the law,
No winners in any war.
‘We won’t put up with their threats,
We’ll kill the enemy with our jets,
Top brass to control the press,
Tell the truth more or less.’
‘Collateral Damage’ is what they call it;
Don’t like to say what caused it.
Innocent people blown to pieces,
Don’t mention this in press releases.
It seems we never learn from history,
Finding a peaceful solution still a mystery.
We live the lie of “war and glory”.
War has no winners, is the truthful story.

by Simon Icke UK

BATTLE FLAG

 

 Tattered-flag

The battle flag snapped and swung up to fly in the wind

Above the post on the hill that even God had forgotten about back then

Rifles swung up and pointed out and down across the clearing

Searing rounds were sent out for the human shearing

A burst returned ripped holes in the flag that flew in the wind

Blood and mud spattered, its fabric so worn and so thin

That flew above boys that day sudden turned into men

It snapped and swung up to fly in the wind

Above the post on the hill that no one, not even God knew about back then. 

 Copyright 2013 Gordon Kuhn
All Rights Reserved
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