Something to start Memorial Day weekend.
Thus ends the poem “Dulce et decorum est” by Wilfed Owen, one of the WWI “War Poets”. Taken from the last stanza of a poem by the Roman poet Horace, the translation is; “How sweet and honourable it is to die for one's country”.
Owen wrote it as a counter to the pro war poet/propagandist, Jessie Pope. He dedicated the first draft to her
Pope's war poetry was originally published in The Daily Mail; it encouraged enlistment and handed a white feather to youths who would not join the colours. Nowadays, this poetry is considered to be jingoistic, consisting of simple rhythms and rhyme schemes, with extensive use of rhetorical questions to persuade (and sometimes pressure) young men to join the war. This extract from Who's for the Game? is typical in style:
Who’s for the game, the biggest that’s played, The red crashing game of a fight?
Who’ll grip and tackle the job unafraid? And who thinks he’d rather sit tight?Other poems, such as The Call (1915) –"Who’s for the trench – Are you, my laddie?"– expressed similar sentiments. Pope was widely published during the war, apart from newspaper publication producing three volumes: Jessie Pope's War Poems (1915), More War Poems (1915) and Simple Rhymes for Stirring Times (1916).
“Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori” is inscribed on the wall of the chapel at Sandhurst and above the rear entrance to the Arlington National Cemetery Amphitheater. Thus giving solace to those who visit and believe the lie.
The poem
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest 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 Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes 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, 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
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
A brutal rejoinder to the “Old lie”.
You can always hear the people who are willing to sacrifice somebody else's life. They're plenty loud and they talk all the time. You can find them in the churches and schools and newspapers and legislatures and congress. That's their business. They sound wonderful. Death before dishonor. This ground sanctified by blood. These men who died so gloriously. They shall not have died in vain. Our noble dead.
Hmmmm.
But what do the dead say?
Did anybody ever come back from the dead any single one of the millions who got killed did any of them ever come back and say by god I'm glad I'm dead because death is better than dishonor? Did they say I'm glad I died to make the world safe for democracy? Did they say I like death better than losing liberty? Did any of them ever say it's good to think I got my guts blown out for the honor of my country? Did any of them ever say look at me I'm dead but I died for decency and that's better than being alive?
-Dalton Trumbo, Johnny Got His Gun
War IS the enemy.
Johnson: Would you look at how fast they put the names of all our guys who got killed? The Sergeant: That's a World War One memorial.
Johnson: But the name's are the same. The Sergeant: They always are.Samuel Fuller The Big Red One