As I write this blog, there are major conflicts causing unspeakable death and injury, not only to members of the armed forces but to civilians trying to exist among the turmoil and carnage of war. Wars that have been started by leaders who want to expand their territory for personal esteem, no matter the cost to their nation or any other peaceful neighbour.
We haven’t learned from the carnage of World War One nor from World War Two. Short-term memories, overwhelming greed, build-up of weaponry beyond sense are the hallmarks of inadequate leaders and their cronies.
This old codger has been touched by war. My father’s younger brother, Clifford, was serving on HMS Kite when it was torpedoed by a German U boat as it protected a convoy of aid to Russia. My father, the eldest sibling, learned of his death whilst serving in the Royal Air Force in the Naga Hills of Burma. No doubt frustrated by the news unable to comfort his parents. Earlier, my father was travelling in a three-ton truck along a hillside when it rolled over down the hill. He was treated for broken ribs in Kohima hospital. Shortly, after returning to duty, the hospital was over-run by the Japanese, and all staff and patients were killed. The battle of Kohima is well documented.
On one occasion, the leaders of the village, down in the valley, came up to my father’s camp to tell them that Japanese troops had been searching for them in the village. I guess my father and his colleagues would be living in a heightened state of fear. One night my father was sleeping in his tent when he woke up, as someone was brushing along the side of his tent. He called out the usual challenge to no avail, so he fired. He killed a wild boar!
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has only recently been formally identified and help now available to returning troops. How many returned home affected by the images of war and death of friends.
I have a poem on this scenario in my BOOK SIX of POEMS BY AN OLD CODGER.
Below is a copy of this poem
Food for thought?
OFF TO ‘THE FRONT’
A crowded platform, a hissing train,
An air of emotion and mutual strain.
Men and boys in their new military gear,
Await orders to board, masking their fear.
A one-way ticket up to the Front,
This journey is no Hollywood Stunt.
Green countryside passes by,
A pleasant land betrays ‘The Lie’.
Disembarked to noise and cordite air,
Stretcher bearers pass, bodies with eyes that stare.
They said, “It will all be over by Christmastide”,
But battlefields churned up mud, so far and wide.
Their military gear no longer new,
Socks and boots all sodden through.
Trenches open to all weather and shell,
This ‘Front’ is just a living hell.
The ‘Front’ back and forth, across the terrain,
As battles continue to wax and wane.
Scrambling up and over the top,
Oh! when will this carnage ever stop.
Wives and mothers, seeking mutual solace,
Waiting for news but fearing the worse.
A dining table set place, an empty chair,
Dreading that telegram, a house of despair.
Eight million dead, twenty-one million wounded alas,
From artillery, small arms, and poison gas.
Trench warfare witnessed at its worse,
A challenge for any field doctor or nurse.
‘A war to end all wars’ they said in vain,
Twenty-one years later, all over again.
A world-wide conflict, more loss, more pain,
Near Eighty-Five million; it’s quite insane! **
From early times man has sought to gain
More land, its minerals, and all the terrain,
By violence and fear and evil intent,
Seeking power and dominance, never content.
By leaders who cannot live in peace or harmony,
Their lives are full of animosity and acrimony.
Achieving their goal by violence and felony,
Creating international mayhem and instability
Is the pen mightier than the sword?
Not empty words uttered by every evil warlord.
Empty promises now strike many a chord,
As we remember those that lie in graves abroad.
………….
** Up to 85 million perished world-wide.
55 million in conflict – military and civilian.
25 million war-related, disease and famine.
UK: 450,000 military and civilian. (380,000 killed)
From the end of WW2 up to the end of the 20th Century
Copyright 2024 Neil Davies.
This poem can be found in BOOK SIX of my set of books. If you wish to buy a copy of my books and support my charity*, please go to
AMAZON BOOKS.
Meanwhile, stay safe.
Thank you,
Neil.
*Proceeds from the sale of my books are going to
THE BRITISH RED CROSS UKRAINE APPEAL