The Blood-Watered Battlefield
by Alexander Patry
The whistle of an incoming shell,
is the source of many a soldier’s nightmares.
The rain of steel from the enemy’s bombardments,
is the cause of many a soldier’s death.
The stillness of the air,
and silence of No-Man’s-Land,
broken only by the bark of a single shot,
as another father, brother, son,
is lost to the ravages of war.
The sound of a dying man’s pleas,
drowned out by the sound of a machine gun,
as his friends, comrades, brothers,
will never see friendly shores again.
The shrill cry of a whistle,
announcing the arrival of the enemy.
The shrill cry of a whistle,
announcing the massive loss of life to come.
The shrill cry of a whistle,
announcing a proximity to victory,
or total, and utter, defeat.
When the sky began to burn,
when the air became toxic,
when the ground gave way beneath their feet,
these men,
Soldiers,
Fathers,
Brothers,
Sons.
Stood bravely,
and stared Death in the eyes,
daring it to try and take them,
their friends,
their comrades,
their brothers in arms,
in body,
in mind, and in spirit.
The blood of their dead watered the fields,
giving power to those who came after,
giving them the will to avenge their fallen,
to ensure that they did not perish in vain.
Those who made it home alive,
will be hailed as heroes for the rest of their lives, and beyond.
Those who came home as corpses,
will be grieved and remembered as heroes.
And those who did not make it home,
will be praised for their sacrifice and remembered forever.
Requiescet in pace, mea fratres.
Rest in peace, my brothers.
Vade ad Deum, Omnes heroes vivet in æternum.
Go with God, and live as heroes for all eternity.
Numquam oblivione delebitur, Et ego iuro in vita mea telum.
You will never be forgotten,
I swear it on my life and my power.
For November 11th, 2020
About this work:
Our 17 year old grandson, Alex, wrote a remembrance day poem for our veterans and for those that we lost, for November 11th, 2020. His great-grandfather, Robert Herbert de Hartog, was a fighter pilot during WW2 flying mostly the Mitchell B25's. He was born in Holland, did pilot training in Western Canada and became part of the Dutch Wing (320 squadron) in the RAF.
Alex has always been interested in the Military and airplanes, so his ambition is to become a pilot with the RCAF. His intent is to apply for an electrical engineering course at RMC next year.
We just wanted to share this powerful, deep felt, and we think, a beautifully written poem.
With appreciation for taking the time to read this,
Vic & Ilona Buxton (grandparents)