Some flaming, fatal climax

I confess that—even as a military historian—I am finding some of the images and video coming out of Ukraine difficult to process. My specialty is New Military History, meaning I focus on the human environment and costs of war. And what we are all seeing is a monumentally high cost.

Poets have talked about that cost for millennia. In general, poets have been known to talk up war; soldier-poets not so much. At least not after they’ve been blooded. The challenge has always been how to communicate the truth to the folks away from the front without driving everyone insane. Or be accused of LMF (lack of moral fiber).

The poets of World War I took a major step forward, and Siegfried Sassoon was one of the best known of them. In “Dreamers” he captures some of the disconnect, as well as some of the constants.

But of course, we never learn, do we?

“Dreamers”

Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.   
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.   
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win   
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives.

I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,   
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain   
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.