It is the Soldier

[vetran]

Indeed.

Army won't be able to function without recruiting migrants

And you think British kids are thick, imagine joining up to be vilified by Islington Idiots who get frightened if their chai latte is too hot.

[vetran]

well worth a read.

Mud, Blood and Poppycock: Britain and the Great War (Cassel Military) eBook: Gordon Corrigan: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

Of course it contains the hard conclusion that Germany planned to be the aggressor in First war, and as we know they did the same in the second. Yes the machine gun changed war it was the first WMD in the last century and Generals didn't understand but that wasn't the soldiers fault or a thoughtless waste.

The war has however been spun as a war of despair & pointlessness which of course it wasn't. If we hadn't won - Die bleibenden sind zwar scheiße, aber jetzt spreche ich deutsch.

Those that died most definitely didn't die in vain and you cowards should go back and wank under the bed.

[BlasterBates]

Indeed.

Army won't be able to function without recruiting migrants

[WTFH]

From someone with rather more experience:

Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen | Poetry Foundation

It's one of the few poems I remember from school days, one of the few pieces of latin I remember, and one sentiment that maybe a few others could do with learning.

War is not something to be glorified with head banging smilies. Soldiers deaths should be respectfully remembered, not used - as their lives are - as political cannon fodder.

[WTFH]

Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

[Paddy]

Outrage at British Army after 1,000 ‘old and worn out’ hero dogs are KILLED instead of being rehomed

Outrage at British Army after 1,000 '''old and worn out''' hero dogs are KILLED instead of being rehomed

[scooterscot]

We think too much and feel too little..

[NotAllThere]

It is the Soldier, not the Minister
Who has given us Freedom of Religion

It is the Soldier, not the reporter
who has given us freedom of the Press

It is the Soldier, not the Poet
who has given us freedom of speech

It is the Soldier, not the campus organiser
who has given us freedom to protest

It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
who has given us the right to a fair trial

It is the Soldier, not the politician
who has given us the right to vote

It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
who serves beneath the flag
and whose coffin is draped by the flag
who allows the protester to burn the flag

Poignant words and sentiments at this time of year.

It is the soldier at the behest of his masters. Soldiers don't decide policy. They just try to implement it. (Often very bravely and self-sacrificingly).

[Whorty]

This is a more apt poem for today, from a soldier who saw the dark side of war and not the glory, and thankfully produced some beautiful poetry before he was killed.


It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,—
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

“I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now. . . .”

[Whorty]

You missed out the rape and pillage bits

And the despots and dictators, backed up by little soldier boys.

[Paddy]

It is the Soldier, not the Minister
Who has given us Freedom of Religion

It is the Soldier, not the reporter
who has given us freedom of the Press

It is the Soldier, not the Poet
who has given us freedom of speech

It is the Soldier, not the campus organiser
who has given us freedom to protest

It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
who has given us the right to a fair trial

It is the Soldier, not the politician
who has given us the right to vote

It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
who serves beneath the flag
and whose coffin is draped by the flag
who allows the protester to burn the flag

Poignant words and sentiments at this time of year.

You missed out the rape and pillage bits

[shaunbhoy]

It is the Soldier, not the Minister
Who has given us Freedom of Religion

It is the Soldier, not the reporter
who has given us freedom of the Press

It is the Soldier, not the Poet
who has given us freedom of speech

It is the Soldier, not the campus organiser
who has given us freedom to protest

It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
who has given us the right to a fair trial

It is the Soldier, not the politician
who has given us the right to vote

It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
who serves beneath the flag
and whose coffin is draped by the flag
who allows the protester to burn the flag

Poignant words and sentiments at this time of year.