Impression sketch
of Lieutenant Roland Leighton. [online] see an original image at: <http://warpoets.org.uk/worldwar1/poets-and-poetry/roland-leighton/>
Accessed: 22 December 2015].
i
'Vera Loves
Roland' - such words
As those that
might be cut by lovers
Onto a tree - always
as a promise,
Done between two
loves - to return
As time over
years to stay forever,
Despite a slow
covering of moss.
As when one
unforgettable year
Unfolded, mulled
over with worry
And hope, as did
for many - among
Them a young lady
of Buxton,
Vera Brittain;
from a middle class
Fortune - a
writer and feminist.
A year of
snatched, shared time -
Of moments that
unfolded from
Winter, to meet
Roland Leighton;
Amid train
stations that became
Terminals of
joyful reunions -
Unbalanced by sad
departures.
While time apart
goes ever slower
Time together
unfolds much faster-
With arrival of
each letter to hold close
That Roland had
written - as Vera
Opened an
amethyst brooch of amity,
That transfers all light between lovers.
That transfers all light between lovers.
With gifts
exchange in simplicity -
For a fountain
pen that his hand
Might hold, that
traces with each
Curve of his
fingers, to make words
That he might
write just for her;
A veil that drew over
all anxieties.
Separations are
never easy - then
Letters finally
arrive to tell a soldier's
Life only five
miles from a firing line -
In spring's
blooms of flowing letters
Written honestly,
to tell how a bullet
Past Roland's head
while he shaved.
ii
With dull green enveloped
letters,
Sworn by the
writer in censors trust -
That no secrets
held within except
For family and
private matters -
Each one received
like a light beam
Over sick seconds,
to think him lost.
Within the maze
of war arrives
Blaze of summer
days, as officers
Escape - behind
but close to lines -
Ploegsteert in
June when Roland
Stood, to hear
waking of every bird
Of the world,
call in the early light.
His unconscious
breath drying
Each line, as he
tells how he has
A farm to himself
where a family
Stay -
indifferent to shells - the wife
Sending his servant
with bowls
Of milk in which
to bathe, perhaps.
At odds in
reality of young men
Who bury young
men - Roland
Stood amid the
crowd of youth
In one simple,
hurried burial
Of a lance
corporal, who died from
Wounds, never to
receive his DCM.
Slowly Vera unfolded
each letter
Roland had once folded
- to touch
The place he hurriedly
touched -
She unsealed
paper, his mouth
Had once sealed -
his male fragility
Carefully unlocked
by her solidity.
Each word Vera
held, devoured
Every line - almost
to feel that
She was there -
beside him at
Night, in the
quiet with Germans
Mending wires - There
to tread
Alongside him over
grassy lands.
Where grass
concealed the dead;
Unburied bodies
of their enemy.
Interrupted by
those intervals
Of normality - to
long for pictures,
Where he might
sit, to see views
Of distant hills
or close cornfields.
Vera always in nursing
distractions;
Ever in the
company of waiting.
iii
Minutes into
hours, into months,
Marked out by
endless letters
Back and forth on
wary nerves -
When Vera learned
of potential
Leave, as Roland told
of facts
Of trench mud,
rain and fleas.
Never again to
feel clean or dry -
Then suddenly the
news Vera
Heard how Roland
was on his way
Home - inadequate
words of joy
To arrive St
Pancreas - wary, Vera
Detects a figure
of familiarity.
Face to face,
Vera and Roland
Shook hands to
stand apart,
Stare, bemused
and reserved.
Eventually
another train carriage
Conveyed them amid
company;
Eventually left alone
to travel.
Dimly, swiftly
travelling through
The dark, Vera
almost afraid
To ask why he
smiled - Roland
Confessed to an
idea to make
Everything right -
to be engaged
All mixed emotions
filled Vera.
Not quite the
romantic action
To accept, but then
question
All motives, to
know if that was
The right thing to
do - if he still
Wanted her - just
‘alright,’ built
An odd tension through
the air.
As with a journey
of two souls
That knows but
cant quite see,
Or understand -
time together
Played its role
as when her lover
Revealed a poem
of Plug-street
Violets to
reflect Roland's depths.
iV
Left alone
together in darkness
Above cliffs, two
would embrace
And kiss to send
shudders of lips.
Rare love breaks its
resistance,
As all too soon
St Pancreas calls
Him away, amid
intrusive crowds.
In suppressed
despair as Roland
Stooped to
pervade a passionate
Kiss, as Vera
paused on carriage
Step that might carry
her with him.
A whistle is
blown - he cannot look
Back, pale and
fixed - light dimmed.
Renewed letters,
brief or long, filled
Days through
September's haze -
To agonize over
days with no news.
Grasping moments
to hold onto -
That unreadable
Roland face in day
Or night duty, hindered
empty hours.
Deeper into days
of December when
Smallest notes of
Roland's declared
Leave; to see him
home for Christmas
Burned in Vera a
thrill of turmoil, wary
How leave might
also be cancelled;
Joy curtailed by
cautioned reality.
V
All can change in
a day, without any
True reasons -
when rumours state
A pending push on
the western front
May cancel all
leave - but halted by
A lover's note of
promise to be home;
The hours tick
along to Christmas eve.
Holding stillness
in any one moment,
Roland no doubt
held onto a vision
Of Vera, ready
before a mirror - silent
In preparations
of Christmas dinner.
To comb her hair;
a beauty in a dress
As he fulfilled
his last night of duty.
Above the trench,
a single moon hung
Bright - as some
officer given Leighton
Orders to repair
the broken wire, before
The trench -
Lieutenant Roland Leighton
Climbed, crawled forwards;
the pale light
Of one moon's
glow across no mans land.
A noise or movement
caught by keen
Eye and one
sniper's bullet sang out -
Pulled back to
safety, the injured man
Told how his
stomach had been hit -
And it was bad.
Lieutenant Leighton
Was hurried to
Louvencourt hospital.
In Vera's expectations
of his landing
On English soil
of Christmas day,
No word came - with
likely problems
In delays and
difficulties, young Vera
Paused to look
across a grey sea,
With slow dreams
to see his face.
A morning message,
27 December
Finally came in
expectation to hear
His voice - but
another's tone told
How a telegram
had been received;
In regret that
Lieutenant Leighton
Had suffered
wounds 23 December,
From which he
died - with sympathy.
27 December, a
morning telephone
Call came - in
expectation to hear his
Voice - but
another's tone told Vera
How a telegram
had been received;
In regret that
Lieutenant Leighton
Had suffered
wounds 23 December,
From which he
died - with sympathy.
Suddenly light
can dull every day,
And every day
comes darkest grey.
by Jamie Mann.
Bishop, A., 1981. Chronicle
of Youth - Vera Brittain's War Diary 1913-1917. Victor Gollancz
Limited. 1914
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