In Memory of Fred Kottman
In Memory of Rifleman Fred Kottman, 1899 - 1st September 1918.
Dreamers
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray 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.
- Siegfried Sasson, 1916
Trench Duty
Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake,
Out in the trench with three hours' watch to take,
I blunder through the splashing mirk; and then
Hear the gruff muttering voices of the men
Crouching in cabins candle-chinked with light.
Hark! There's the big bombardment on our right
Rumbling and bumping; and the dark's a glare
Of flickering horror in the sectors where
We raid the Boche; men waiting, stiff and chilled,
Or crawling on their bellies through the wire.
"What? Stretcher-bearers wanted? Some one killed?"
Five minutes ago I heard a sniper fire:
Why did he do it?... Starlight overhead--
Blank stars. I'm wide-awake; and some chap's dead.
- Siegfried Sassoon
Sassoon's poems are so descriptive, and they have so much in them which really makes you imagine how it really would have been like for the soldiers in the trenches. Its so sad that in the war diary for Fred Kottman's regiment, it just says that they made some advances, and there were some losses...I know they have to write it in a very matter of fact way, but it shows the dehumanisation of war, how people are just reduced to statistics. Luckily it is no where near like that now and no where near as many people are dying each day from war. But, we're still fighting a war, still people are uselessly and needlessly dying. I hope we still remember them in 100 years as well.
I've looked back at the previous tributes I've written to Fred, my great-great uncle, and I want to try and find some different poems to post, as I seem to have posted the same ones each time - but they are just so relevant to what I want to say. I know it sounds weird, but I enjoy reading these kind of poems (perhaps enjoy isn't the right word), as they are written so well and give such an idea of what really happened and what everyone went through in the battlefields of France. I've also found an excellent poem written after the war, by the woman who started the campaign for poppies to be worn:
We Shall Keep The Faith
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet - to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.
- Moina Mitchell, 1918
Its sad how many people nowadays don't wear a poppy, and the shocking disrespect to the two minutes silence we had earlier was awful. People still carried on their conversations, the phone rang and someone picked up the phone and said "oh can I ring you back, we're having the two minutes silence at the moment" !!!! Even if people don't care about World Wars 1 and 2 (although they should, in my opinion) people in the British Army are still fighting and dying in wars at this very moment, so at the very least they should be thinking of them.
Dreamers
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray 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.
- Siegfried Sasson, 1916
Trench Duty
Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake,
Out in the trench with three hours' watch to take,
I blunder through the splashing mirk; and then
Hear the gruff muttering voices of the men
Crouching in cabins candle-chinked with light.
Hark! There's the big bombardment on our right
Rumbling and bumping; and the dark's a glare
Of flickering horror in the sectors where
We raid the Boche; men waiting, stiff and chilled,
Or crawling on their bellies through the wire.
"What? Stretcher-bearers wanted? Some one killed?"
Five minutes ago I heard a sniper fire:
Why did he do it?... Starlight overhead--
Blank stars. I'm wide-awake; and some chap's dead.
- Siegfried Sassoon
Sassoon's poems are so descriptive, and they have so much in them which really makes you imagine how it really would have been like for the soldiers in the trenches. Its so sad that in the war diary for Fred Kottman's regiment, it just says that they made some advances, and there were some losses...I know they have to write it in a very matter of fact way, but it shows the dehumanisation of war, how people are just reduced to statistics. Luckily it is no where near like that now and no where near as many people are dying each day from war. But, we're still fighting a war, still people are uselessly and needlessly dying. I hope we still remember them in 100 years as well.
I've looked back at the previous tributes I've written to Fred, my great-great uncle, and I want to try and find some different poems to post, as I seem to have posted the same ones each time - but they are just so relevant to what I want to say. I know it sounds weird, but I enjoy reading these kind of poems (perhaps enjoy isn't the right word), as they are written so well and give such an idea of what really happened and what everyone went through in the battlefields of France. I've also found an excellent poem written after the war, by the woman who started the campaign for poppies to be worn:
We Shall Keep The Faith
Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet - to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.
We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.
And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We'll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.
- Moina Mitchell, 1918
Its sad how many people nowadays don't wear a poppy, and the shocking disrespect to the two minutes silence we had earlier was awful. People still carried on their conversations, the phone rang and someone picked up the phone and said "oh can I ring you back, we're having the two minutes silence at the moment" !!!! Even if people don't care about World Wars 1 and 2 (although they should, in my opinion) people in the British Army are still fighting and dying in wars at this very moment, so at the very least they should be thinking of them.