World War I

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares2 we turned our backs And towards our distant rest3 began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots4 Of tired, outstripped5 Five-Nines6 that dropped behind. Gas!7 Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets8 just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime9 . . . Dim, through the misty panes10 and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering,11 choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud12 Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, My friend, you would not tell with such high zest13 To children ardent14 for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori. ----- 8 October 1917 - March, 1918 ---------WILFRED OWEN Dulce et Decorum Est -----------best known poem of the First World War

“You still think it’s beautiful to die for your country. The first bombardment taught us better. When it comes to dying for country, it’s better not to die at all.” —Paul Baumer, Movie, All Quiet on the Western Front