Impression sketch
of Wilfred Owen crawling towards advanced post by Jamie
i
From Billet to
canvas to cattle wagon,
Came stages of
transportation -
Within twelve
days of arrival Wilfred
Owen no longer
had protection.
The rocking, sliding
ride amid others,
Took them towards
inevitability -
A mistletoe code
home broke all rules
To spell S e r
r e; a ghostly place.
West of there British
trenches marked
An edge; reserve,
support and front
Lines - foul
conditions still being used -
A communication
trench led him.
First sign of the
front met Owen's eyes;
They likely waded in knee deep
Waters - poisoned rainwaters
that glints
By sunlight, tarnished in decay.
Early January and
deep winter held
Its promise of
snow - snow that
Briefly alleviated
the churned ground -
Its brief purity
sucked down.
Lieutenant
Wilfred Owen would later
Find time to
describe the state
Of the front in a six paged letter
Sent to, 'My own
sweet Mother.'
ii
Penned five days
into his first arrival there
By subjective analysis the pressure
Of each stroke suggests Owen's tiredness,
Sensitivity and
likely empathy.
Words set out
with deep indents, whose
Characters stand
upright - added
To here and there
with thoughts or small
Words, struck in favour
of others.
Wishes for freedom
spaces words, along
With logical and
practical character
By lack of slants, as
each connected letter
Shows careful
systematic decisions.
With i's whose
dots often fly away
To the right, confirm this male
Writer’s
imagination - ability topped
Of capital T suggested optimism.
Emotions of the
man are portrayed
By choice of
expressions -
Openly he is 'bitterly' disappointed
In not receiving
her letters.
In honesty the
officer informs his
Mother, no reason
to deceive
How he had
suffered 'seventh hell,'
Over the previous
four days.
iii
Dante’s vision
takes Wilfred Owen
Whose poet’s
circles transport
Him to the
seventh circle; made from
Three rings, first
is the outermost.
On banks of
boiling blood and fire are
Violent beings
and murderers -
In the middle
ring harpies feed on the
Vegetation formed
by suicides.
There wild dogs
tear to shred wasters -
The innermost ring
are irreverents
Who stand on scolding
sands beneath
Torrential,
burning, hellish rains.
Such describes
the state of the front
Where before Owen
has been,
Beyond the very core of No Mans Land.
'I held an
advanced post.'
In a singular
parameter he is joined;
'We marched 3
miles a shelled
Road dissolved
into a flooded trench,
Finally flattened
into nothing.'
It was night as
they aimed for the dug
Out in the midst
of No Mans Land
Up and over the top
into utter darkness,
That held no
chance of light.
iV
In varieties of
depth of up to five feet
Of mud, Owen at
pains, describes
How this is no ordinary
mud not even
Sloppy but a deep sucking clay.
By properties of
an octopoda creature
Of mythology; an ability to suck
Anything down
into doom - here men
Have been known
to drown.
Some can only
escape by discarding
Equipment, waders
and even
Their clothes, in
order to crawl from the
Slippery claws - many
have fallen.
Relentlessly
machine guns stuttered
With high
explosives all around -
Yet the darkness
seemed able to absorb
Any light, so no
flare revealed them.
Blind men in a
brail of a path, the party
Reached the dug out - each three
Quarters dead, there relieved observers.
Owens responsibility
was not over.
In charge of
other posts even further
Into hells depth, he found another
Advanced post - here he left bombers
To number 18; nearby were others.
V
Slight relief
came as one junior officer
Took charge of
those - the dug out
Where they stood
was six feet, water
Though held the
first two feet.
Air of a kind was
contained in the four
Feet left - here
forms of 25 men
Were squeezed together; short sentences
Conveyed Owen's abject
misery.
Though only
afternoon this was January.
Ten minutes
dragged into an hour -
To say '50 hours that
were the agony of my
Happy life'; bled
despondency.
Water was still
rising, as the Germans
Knew they were
there and did
Not want them -
German shells wailed
Through the dark as hells hounds.
Owen admitted to
being on very edge
Of breaking point
- he stared down
Into the water, almost to let himself drown.
Shelling faded as
6 p.m. struck hour.
At 150 yards lay yet another British post
That should take only sixty seconds
To walk; Owen
waded, climbed, crawled
To take 30
minutes to reach.
Vi
The most danger
came from friendly fire
Of machine guns behind - holding
To humor he
compared them to Mary’s
Canary, who he could
support more.
In plain horror
the sentries, one of whom
He had not taken as his servant, were
Blown away - if
taken the fellow would be
Alive; servants
don't do sentry duty.
In safety Owen
ordered the other sentries
Half way down the
dug out stairs,
Under the intense
bombardment - yet one
Lad blown down
stairs was blinded.
To close with
short sentences in effect
Of disjointed thoughts; 'I suppose
I am well, though
the left platoon officer
In hospital completely
exhausted.'
Perhaps like the
officer that he relieved
Owen suffered a
deeper shock;
The man left after 24 hours to abandon
3 Lewis guns for
a court martial.
For honesty
allowed Wilfred to declare
All this to Susan, as that place
Was the worst Manchester’s
ever held -
He would never go
back there.
Vii
By hurried last
lines to complete sixth
Page, squeezed
together by open
Half coded
criticism, against a fellow
Distinguished
countryman.
The shared Welsh ancestry
of Lloyd
George, the Prime
minister
Of the British
war time government,
Whom this soldier
cursed.
Though any leader
might be par for
The course - he gave his mother
Allowance to pass
on his experiences
To others, such as
cousin Leslie.
Under the curious
reference, 'Owen
Owen' to hint at
the Medieval
Ruler, who led
welsh revolt against
The English, in vain
self-status.
Self consciously
perhaps his intent
Always for a wider
audience -
A letter, not just
for his mother's gaze,
But to show
others the truth.
His own eyes
opened by the harsh
Reality and to
contain a source
That would remain
in Owen's mind
Of a sentry tumbling blind.
Of a sentry tumbling blind.
By Jamie Mann.
Source: File: Letter
from Wilfred Owen to his mother on January 16 1917. Available
at: <http://battlefieldtrip.wikispaces.com/Wilfred+Owen> [Accessed 16 January
2017]
Source: File: What
does your handwriting say about you?. Available at: <http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2380858/What-does-handwriting-say-Study-finds-5-000-personality-traits-linked-write.html>
[Accessed 16 January 2017]
Source: File: 9
Circles of Hell (Dante's Inferno). Available at: <http://historylists.org/art/9-circles-of-hell-dantes-inferno.html>
[Accessed 16 January 2017]
Source: File: Owain
Glyndŵr. Wikipedia. Available at: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Owain_Glyndŵr>
[Accessed 16 January 2017]
Mann, J., 2016. 100
years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 16 January
2017).
#WW1 #WW1centenary
#GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered
#WW1WilfredOwen
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