The Great War: A Poetic Salute to 1918
As 1918 dawned the protagonists in the Great War, exhausted after 41 months of devastating and unremitting slaughter on the Western Front, teetered on the brink of defeat or victory. The Allies were clinging on desperately awaiting the arrival of the full might of the American military machine to save them from catastrophe; the German high command was gathering up its scanty resources to mount one final assault that might lead to victory.
1918 would be the year of decision; the year of attrition; the year of victory or defeat. The Gods threw the dice and the cubes were rolling.
The Battle of the Somme
(1 July, 1916. The Curtain Raiser)
The red-tabbed generals at GHQ
safe in their warm chateau
plotting the battles, moving the troops
oblivious to what they don’t know
For five days and nights the guns
hurled shells over the soldiers’ head
then “Good news” said the generals
“ the wire’s cut, the Germans are dead”
Birds were singing that morning
a beautiful sunny day to greet July
The troops petrified in the trenches
knew it was there turn to die.
At 7.30am on that summer day
by the light of the rising sun
a mine under the enemy erupted
The Battle of the Somme had begun
Right along the allied trenches
the whistles started the great attack
many men went over the top
So few of them came back
Officers were on the parapet
Encouraging and giving a hand
Helping the men from the trenches
to head out into No Mans Land
No Mans Land is a deadly place
Only terror and death lurk there
Littered with the dead and wounded
and men petrified with fear
By midday the Great Push was over
the survivors back behind their lines
The rest wounded, dead or missing
fodder to the guns shells and mines.
The dead lay in endless rows
victims of the machine guns rattle
offered up at the generals’ whim
and slaughtered there like cattle
Twenty thousand in khaki died that day
Twice that number shattered or lost
The generals for days unaware
What the dreadful human cost
God looked down on the battlefield
and wept at the carnage he saw
The Somme set the gold standard
for the slaughter of the Great War
PRO EXEMPLO
“For the sake of example” said the General
dipping the pen in the inkwell
to sign the Court Martial death warrant
to send another soldier to hell
The condemned man was marched
to his final place of detention
to wait the short time remaining
with fear and terrified apprehension
The padre comforted the man
talking and helping him to pray
Anything to prolong the last night
and delay the birth of a new day
As dawn broke over the countryside
the prisoner blindfolded and bound
was taken to the place of execution
to be tied to a stake in the ground
A piece of white cloth was fixed
to the condemned man’s grubby vest
To mark the site of his beating heart
the target on the terrified breast
The firing party was drawn up ready
rifles preloaded – there was one blank
the scene was now a clear example
to the troops lined up on the bank
In order to ease the prisoner’s terror
no shouted orders to the firing squad
pre-arranged signals to be given
to despatch the soldier to his God.
Then the final firing signal came
The one each squad man would dread
Pull the trigger, a burst of cordite
The prisoner made an example – was dead
The deceased wrapped in a blanket
Was buried near where he fell
no one there with word or prayer
and no toll of the funeral bell
“A good job done” said the General
“On military law troops cannot trample
That fellow had to be shot sir
Simply for the sake of example.”
Copyright © Bill Conroy, 2016
Written by Bill Conroy
Bill Conroy is a Tauranga based freelance writer and poet with a particular interest in historical non-fiction and composing WW1 poetry.
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