I have said that I was one of the luckiest man for having known men, who have served in the Corps and some I met on the internet.
I must also include women I met, who also served in the Corps and some who have not served in the military.
This month I received a book of war poetry from a Marine I will just use his first name Bill, its title is A CORNER OF A FOREIGN FIELD
The Illustrated poetry of the First World War
By Fiona Waters.
I've just begun reading but I like these three poems;
WARBRIDE
There has been wrong since the world began,
That young men should go out and die in war,
And lie face down in the dust for a brief span,
And be not good to look at any more.
It is the old men with their crafty eyes
And greedy fingers and their feeble lungs,
Make mischief in the world and are called wise,
And bring war on us with their garrulous tongues.
It is old men in secret rooms,
feign wisdom while they sign our peace away,
And turn fair meadows into recking tombs,
And passionate bridegrooms into bloodied clay.
It is the old men should be sent to fight!
The old men grown so wise they have forgot
The touch of mouth on mouth in the still night,
The tenderness that wedded lovers wot;
The dreams that dwell in the eyes of a young bride;
The secret beauty of things said and done;
The hope of children coming, and the pride
Of little homes and gardens in the sun.
It is the old men that have nought to lose,
And nought to pray for but their grasping breath,
Should bear this ill of the world, and so choose
Out of their beds to meet their master, Death.
This is the bitterest wrong the world wide,
That young men on the battlefield should rot,
And I be widowed who was scarce a bride,
While prattling old men sit at ease and plot.
Nina Murdoch
'NOW THAT YOU TOO MUST
SHORTLY GO THE WAY
Now that you too must go the way
Which in these bloodshot years uncounted men
Have gone in vanishing armies day by day,
And in their numbers will not come again:
I must not strain the moments of our meeting
Striving each look, each accent, not to miss,
Or question of our parting and our greeting,
Is this the last of all? is - or this?
Last sight of all it may be with these eyes,
Last touch, last hearing, since eyes, hands, and ears,
Even serving love, are our mortalities,
And cling to what they own in mortal fear: -
But oh, let end what will, I hold you fast
By immortal love, which has no first or last.
Eleanor Farjeon
THEY
The Bishop tells us: 'When the boys come back
'They will not be the same; for they'll have fought
'In a just cause: they lead the last attack
'On Anti-Christ; their comrades' blood has bought
'New right to breed an honourable race,
'They have challenged Death and dared him face to face.'
'We're none of us the same!' the boys reply.
'For George lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind;
'Poor Jim's shot through the lungs and like to die;
'And Bert's gone syphilitic: you'll not find
'A chap who's served that hasn't found some change.
' And the Bishop said: 'The ways of God are strange!'
Yes, war does change men and women as we are finding out again.
War! brings out the best in some men, and the worst in other men, we who have served bear witness.
With all that I will now close this month's message.
Semper Fidelis
Ricardo
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