Poem ~ Soldiers Suicide Pact - Wednesday, 30 August 1916

Impression sketch; 'Soldiers Suicide Pact' - by Jamie.

i

In Dorset’s Ancient County sat Wimborne,

A market town where smugglers and kings

And age-old legends made history - a place

New war had left untouched, where the Stour

River passed through in silence - its waters

Attracting walkers and fishermen - in August's

Sun, Mr Street sat himself down to catch fish.

The day’s hour passed quietly, to provide

No sign of the gruesome discovery Mr Street

Was soon to make - Feeling a pull on his rod

Mr Street reacted, to gently tug on the catch.

Yet a resistance came, prompting him to pull

Harder - a strange weight resisted him, then

With another tug, surfaced submerged bodies.

Street had made discovery of two drowned

Soldiers bound together - idetification found

One man of a Royal Naval division, the other

A soldier of a Lancaster Regiment - a letter

And photo on the latter provided his name -

Why and how had these two men drowned?

Found far away from regiments and homes.

Puttees had been tied about their wrists in

Death's embrace - had they willingly met

An end together, or an act of murder that
had gone wrong? The letter in the pocket, 

Un-posted, contained a photograph of him

Addressed to the family's home; puzzles

Answered in part contained by his words.

ii

Taking up a pen in a nervous hand, Private

James Wood aged 21 began to put down

His thoughts - perhaps by letter's end they

Might change his intentions - Woods hoped

His father Joseph and mother Mary Ann

Might then understand his desperation -

James considered what had led him there.

Their son Albert, his brother, had been

Killed and his own wound had plagued him,

For a month James had not slept - so why

Then was the other man he died with there?

What reasons, connections might they have

Had in traveling to Wimborne in Dorset, in

Whatever purpose other than to drown?

A clue to the other man was a RND cap

Ribbon pushed into his pocket - identity

Could not be certain, though it seemed

He might be a Private Parker  - also

To be from Manchester - very likely

To have been a declared deserter,

Perhaps supporting Pt. James Wood.

Did then Parker RND sit and wait

As Pt. Wood 17060 finished his letter,

To ask his family for their forgiveness.

Was this some absurd murder plot?

The two took a walk down to the river 
Stour, maybe avoiding any witness,

To stop and bind their wrists together.

The deserter Able Seaman Parker

Stood with Private Wood who decided

That he could go on no longer - what

Words would have been said between

Them? Unrolling Wood's khaki puttee

They carefully  secured themselves

Together, in shared desperation to die.

iii

Time then passed their bodies pulled 

Out the Stour by a fisherman - to make

Another mystery for Wimborne history.
The coroner declared their act of suicide

Happened while in an unsound mind -

To leave a dispute, regarding identifying

the name of the drowned able seaman.

James Mason or James Lennon? the

Latter deserting 3 August 1916.To believe

This was the most likely man, his parents
Informed he had drowned; then Lennon
Returned to camp on 1 September 1916. 
An unsolvable mystery was left,as to why

They chose to drown together; as brothers

Effected by shell shock? Or by strange pact?

By Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1916. Battlefield Souvenirs - Boche Fire At Wounded. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 25 August 1916. P.5. Col.2. Available at: <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12212859/Daily-Telegraph-August-25-1916.html> [Accessed: 22 August 2016].

Mann, J., 2016. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 22 August 2016). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12212857/Daily-Telegraph-August-23-1916.html

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1Dorset 

Poem ~ Owen: The Image Of An Officer - Thursday, 27 July 1916

Source: File: Wilfred Owen 1916.  See an original image at: <http://www.borrowers.uga.edu/782958/show> [Accessed 27 July 2016]

Seven months, a long time through war,

As battles fought, lose with minimal gain;

With front line loss of numbers others

Are in manufacture of war, prepared.

With fingers stained from hated rifle oil,

One cadet Private Wilfred Owen made

Months of training as a trooper - days

Of barking drills punctuated by walks.

Escapism came by way of London, with

Monk-like fixation to good books and

Poetry - ambition always simmered, from

Ideas of poetry to release a creative mind.

Word experiments and the body always

Remained as some metaphor, aiming

At something higher than sensuality,

In preference for critics by friend Monro.

Through phases Wilfred Owen made

Reinventions of self; as a pale parish

Assistant to French dandy, to become

A disciplined soldier, as fit as his equals.

Change once again came, this time

June 1916 - discharged from Artists

Rifles to take an officers commission -

A second Lieutenant with Manchester’s.

Moving up ranks involved another

Rung, as he reported for duty - Witley

Camp in Surry was beautifully vast,

A culture shock with odd conventions.

The 3/5th Manchester’s were solid,

Earthy northern men - a lot of miners

Formed out of three unified units

Of mixed ages, Owen gained a platoon.

Consisting of four sections of ten men

Each led by corporal along with his

Servant scouts and a sergeant, Owen's

Role to train them for varied duties.

Working as a team, the four sections

Leant to attack and defend - to become

Proficient in rifle and bomb and

Lewis gun, as instructed by their officer.

Obsessed by three 'ings'; marching, 
Digging and killing - he saw these men
As ugly, hard, coarse Lancashire Saxons

Who would remain reliable under fire.

For majority leaving Witley camp was

Only possible with permission, except

Officers who had privileges - Lieutenant

Owen made his escape on a bicycle.

Away from camp and his role Owen

Very likely became more his old

Self - admirer of beauty of locality,

Lingering in shops of tea and books.

Sunday 2 July, leaning against his
Bike in survey of green countryside,  

He listened to mutterings in France;
Mutual guns battering their enemy.

Manchester’s had taken part within

The biggest push and Montauban

In the South had been captured by
Them - but the North had suffered.

As news of the Somme crept over,

Owen attended a course travelling

To Aldershot, showing an ability with

Rifle - yet he was to carry a revolver.

Acknowledgement of self-confirmation

As soldier in the Aldershot barracks,

Owen visited old ground of Dunsden -

His Pope and Bradley uniform noted.

In leave at Alpenrose Wilfred Owen

Became the subject of his Uncle John.

To pose in a camera studio full and half

Face, with and without his officer’s cap.

By natural light john Gunston chatted

To his nephew, whose image reflected

On the glass - 'that’s it my boy, slightly

More right, look towards me, sideways.'

A living form poised, colour of face

Hair and uniform captured with a click

Into tones of grey - 'another one please.'

Owen stood still, to enjoy the thought.

Unaware though how they would convey

Him into eternity. He changed position

Slightly under instruction, used to orders,

Taking a blink before the shutter took him.

Cool eyes under heavy lids, looked

Calmly askant and out to the watcher -

This was confirmation of ambition -

Owen was now a gentleman and officer.

By Jamie Mann.

Hibberd, D., 2002. Wilfred Owen – A New Biography. London. Weidenfeld & Nicolson. Ch 11.

Mann, J., 2016. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 27 July 2016). 

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1WilfredOwen

Poem ~ Death in the Fog - Friday, 6 November 1914

In correction of previous

Accounts, is the report

Of a Sub–Lieutenant,

Of the Royal Naval Reserve;

Mr Petchell Burt Murray -

From Worsley Manchester,

And his unfortunate death.

In September having joined,

The Flying Corps Naval wing,

Sub - Lieutenant Murray,

Became a pupil at the Upavon

Central Flying School.

In training he had been

Seen to have remarkable

Proficiency, by limited experience.

On 5 November, this officer

Was sent up by his Instructor,

Making an early morning flight.

The weather was at first clear. 

But while flying, a dense fog

Formed - making for anxieties.

Such poor conditions would

Create a dangerous descent.

On Carlton Down, a shepherd,

Looking after his flock of sheep,

Stood within the shroud of fog.

Came the noise of an aircraft,

Within the stillness of that mist,

The eerie drone of that machine,

Surrounded the watching shepherd.

Looking about, he saw a break

In the grounded cloud - with

The swift movement of the plane -

Possibly the pilot was confused, 

Lost as where to land - the noise

Moved on. The shepherd seeing

To his flock, soon after heard,

The noise of a deathly crash.

It was some time before the mist

Dispersed revealing craft and pilot.

Lieutenant Murray was found, quite still

Strapped in the body, of the craft,

His neck had been neatly broken.

The aircraft nose was embedded,

 At a depth in the ground, leading

To the probability that he had

Been unable to regulate a descent.

The ground being hidden by fog

Upon his fall of 100 mph rate.

The verdict was accidental death.

In a tribute, the coroner valued

Such services of British Aviators.

Lieutenant Murray, in this war,

Had given his life for his country -

As if he had died in the trenches;

The Lieutenant was 20 years old.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1914. Naval Airman Killed  - Flight in a Fog. The Daily Telegraph. [online] 6 Nov. p.5. Col.5. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11208699/Daily-Telegraph-November-6-1914.html [Accessed: 6 November 2014].

Mann, J., 2014. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 6 November 2014). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11208699/Daily-Telegraph-November-6-1914.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered