“Suppose they Gave a War and Nobody Came.”
That was the caption on a popular poster back in the day. Wouldn’t it be lovely, but we are not there yet. And as Remembrance day approaches we remember the fallen in wars where everybody went and many didn’t return home. War leaves no stone unturned, no human untouched, and its tremors reverberates for generations.
To the forever empty nests because of war and conflict
Let’s take a look at war through a couple of poems written by women. The unheralded and subordinated voices. The first is by Eva Dobell who was a British poet nurse and editor. Here is her famous poem:
by Eva Dobell (1876–1963)
Crippled for life at seventeen,
His great eyes seems to question why:
with both legs smashed it might have been
Better in that grim trench to die
Than drag maimed years out helplessly.
A child – so wasted and so white,
He told a lie to get his way,
To march, a man with men, and fight
While other boys are still at play.
A gallant lie your heart will say.
So broke with pain, he shrinks in dread
To see the ‘dresser’ drawing near;
and winds the clothes about his head
That none may see his heart-sick fear.
His shaking, strangled sobs you hear.
But when the dreaded moment’s there
He’ll face us all, a soldier yet,
Watch his bared wounds with unmoved air,
(Though tell-tale lashes still are wet),
And smoke his Woodbine cigarette.
We salute the unsung heroes, the caregivers, the listeners, the people left to survive the peace and pick up the traumatized pieces of lives forever changed. The widows, orphans and casualties on the home front. The victims of dangerous working conditions in munitions factories and special operations.
And here is a poem from a woman who served on the home front. A brilliant description of one of the many roles that women had to fill to feed families during the war.
The Women’s Land Army by Rose Perritt
A world of chaos, a world at war,
Destruction as never seen before,
A world of heartbreak, world of fear,
And misery so hard to bear.
Armies wrong, and Armies right,
Marching forth to kill and fight,
And lo, the toll of death was high.
An Army came, but not to kill,
Only hungry mouths to fill,
An Army clad in brown and green,
About the countryside was seen,
Around the farmyards, on the roads,
With horses, carrying heavy loads,
A womens army, firm of hand,
Had come to conquer on the Land.
In lonely ones, or gangs together,
In strange fantastic English weather,
That never a moment may be lost,
In tearing winds and biting frost,
They tended livestock, planted seed,
Tilled, manured, conquered weed,
Picked potatoes, cabbage, beet,
So that England still could eat.
Now a world at peace, a world still mad,
A world all blasted, weary, sad,
A lot more hungry mouths to fill,
The green Army is needed still,
Little reward will come their way,
But beauty in their hearts will stay,
That comes to those that understand,
Love of a horse, the love of the land.
If you are lucky enough to know someone who lived through this period, find out if they are willing share this this most intense time in their lives. Let me know what you learn.