Siegfried Sassoon was another war poet. From a gentle family he was also a soldier, who fought in the war. His words perhaps have a poignancy because of that. Whoever thinks that soldiers want to go to war, to kill, to maim?. They are like us, humans who nevertheless put themselves forward so that we may enjoy freedom. Before the soldier is lambasted ...think a little, even you who seem to take great delight in condemnation...from the comfort of you r fireside chair, your social security/welfare cheque, from the freedom so dearly bought for us by those you so easily condemn. First look upon your own reflection before you cast even a pebble or mote of sand.
Attack
(from The Old Huntsman)
AT dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun
In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun,
Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud
The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one,
Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire.
The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed
With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear,
Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.
Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear,
They leave their trenches, going over the top,
While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists,
And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists,
Flounders in mud. O Jesus, make it stop!
Siegfried Sassoon
