PLEASE USE THIS TEXT IF YOU WANT. IT IS A NON FICTION TEXT EXCERPT TAKEN FROM

SHATTERED GLORY: THE NEW ZEALAND EXPERIENCE AT GALLIPOLI AND THE WESTERN FRONT, BY MATTHEW WRIGHT. Chapter 10, pg 203 ...

The New Zealanders who hunkered down [prepared to put up with] to endure the bitter winter of 1916-17 had to accept that the campaign [war] on the Western Front showed no sign of ending. The truth of the front engulfed [buried them metaphorically] and destroyed the mind - an endless tide of strain, fear, adrenalin, disease and filth that periods away from the front did little to alleviate [ make less of a problem]. Many soldiers could not bring themselves to describe the 'hideousness of this wicked war' in letters home (Luke Ewert, in a letter home in November 1917).

Perhaps the hardest part was the fact that their whole world revolved, ultimately, around death. Kiwi soldiers just months out of civilian life [normal life] had to bring themselves to kill. ... the Germans were depersonalised as "Boche", "Fritz' or "the Hun". Hatred became a sustainer. ...revenge was a powerful motive. Doug Stark experienced 'maniacal hatred' when a comrade was killed in 1918. He was not alone. "Brian had a cobber [friend] of ours killed near him ...got into the Hun's [Germans] trench and he DID kill....he is a good shot -nough said."

Such sentiments [feelings] were common. "We were all naturally nervous at the start but once we started and saw our mates going down all fear vanished and our one aim was to get to them with our bayonets." (Jesse Stayte)

The other side of the equation was being killed. That was harder; everybody knew the risks. ...Men trying to tackle [take on] German machine-gun posts were caught in streams of bullets, twirling and jerking like rag dolls under the impact - the legendary 'Spandau ballet'. ...

...At other times men simply fell - quietly and without ceremony. Some died with no apparent injury on them, killed by the shock of high explosives.

Others vanished in shell bursts, disappearing in the blast as if they had never existed - although, later, pieces might be found scattered across the battlefield or trampled into the mud by the passing soldiers.

Any soldier near the front was vulnerable. Snipers, shells, gas and grenades took their toll even well back from the firing trenches.

Often death came without warning. ; bullets were supersonic and, at best, heard only after the round had missed. At worst the first alert of a sniper was the dull thud of the bullet impacting flesh. Men fell in mid conversation. ...even men well behind the lines had to face artillery fire and aerial bombs.

..in Ypress ... it was possible to drown in mud while trying to get to the front.

Men ...never really accepted the loss of friends and comrades - often imagining how the news of death might be felt on family and parents back home. Most felt it keenly [deeply] in the cold depression that followed a battle, but the mood could strike at any time. "My word it was hard," H.G Clark declared after finding a casualty list [list of dead soldiers] in mid 1917, "as some of the boys I knew personally." Letters and diaries were filled with ..."poor old Frank Wilson", "poor kid," "a finer chap one could not wish to meet anywhere." "another splendid fellow gone."

The reality, of course, was that even men who died around their comrades [friends] died alone. Some did so suddenly, but for others death came only after minutes or hours of agony; and the pain of those last moments could not be hidden from those around. Men who knew they were beyond aid begged to be put out of their misery. And those who died out in no-man's land far from sight or help did not even have the luxury of empty reassurances [from their friends].

...Such an environment sapped the will to carry on..."We make an advance this afternoon, and with God's guidance and protection I hope to win through all right," [get through the war without being killed.] Eric Spedding declared in 1916, just one day before his death." But as time went on more soldiers became fatalistic. [what will be will be]. ...Ultimately the soldiers stopped trying even to stay alive. ...

...The prospect of a wound bad enough to take the men back to Britain "Blighty" but not so bad as to cripple or disfigure, became desirable. Some soldiers, their mids torn by the horror, even tried to inflict "Blighty" wounds on themselves. ...Punishments were severe. ...There were also suicides, although these were more usually achieved via German bullets.

...By early1917 the men were flagging [getting tired]. Reserves of courage and mental strength were running thin.

Dulce et Decorum Est

BY WILFRED OWEN

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest 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 hoots

Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—

Dim through the misty panes 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, 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 cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

1914 I. Peace

Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour

And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,

With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power,

To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping,

Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary,

Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move,

And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary,

And all the little emptiness of love!

Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,

Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,

Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;

Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there

But only agony, and that has ending;

And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

Break down of Peace 1914, by Rupert Brooke.doc

A Breakdown of “Peace 1914”, by Rupert Brooke.

Theme – war is a worthy and glorious cause that can lift you above the “rabble” and absolve you of any sins. If you die you would be accepted into heaven having done your “time” penance, for the cause, a war blessed by God.

Language features/techniques – use of allusions to the Victorian Era’s ideology of the glory that is to be acquired through battle. His diction is romantic and classical and has religious references/ allusionsto God and God’s blessing of this war. His diction style is not conversational or plain. It is more like a prayer of thanks to God for the opportunity of being part of such a noble cause.

It is a prayer of thanks to God for the opportunity to die for such a noble reason.

It is a prayer of thanks to God for the opportunity to leave behind others who are not brave or honourable enough to fight for Britain’s cause.

It is a prayer of thanks to God for the opportunity to “rise above the masses” in society.

It is a prayer of thanks to God for the opportunity of having their sins absolved through death for a good cause and so therefore to be able to enter heaven.

Tone – is “lofty” classical and uplifting. An offering of thanks to God.

Now God be thanked - thanking God for the opportunity of going to war on behalf of the British people/Empire

Who has matched us with his hour – God has “matched” the soldiers/young men of England, physically, mentally and skilfully to be able to go to war on God’s behalf.

And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping – God has got them while they are still young and strong, opened their eyes to the necessity and value of going to war for Britain. Up until this time British youth had been unaware of the cause that was brewing.

With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power, - British youth at this time, or those that wanted to fight – were steady of hand/strong, could see well, but also had good understanding of what was right and wrong. Sharpened power – could fight with precision. Good physical form.

To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping – the soldiers who go and leap into this war/battles, are leaping into a “clean” “Holy” cause and so therefore are themselves going to be “cleansed” by the glory of battle and their bravery.

Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary - happy that they are leaving behind a Britain and the kinds of people that weren’t up/ brave enough/honourable enough/patriotic to fight. These people left behind appear cold and worn out.

Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move – leaving those young men whose souls and hearts weren’t strong enough to have a noble cause make them feel guilty about not going.

And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary – those that didn’t want to go were not “whole men”. They just wanted to hang out and sing dirty songs and live dreary, unimportant lives.

And all the little emptiness of love! – these “half-men” were only interested in sex, and girls.

Oh! We, who have known shame - yes, Brooke is acknowledging that the brave soldiers prepared to go to war may still have sinned in some way, so could therefore be less than pure..

We have found release there – Brooke is saying that the sinners have found absolution, repentance, doing your penance at the war. Doing your spiritual cleansing time. Doing good works.

Where there’s no ill, no grief, but sleep is mending – nothing really bad can happen to you. There is nothing that should make you sad because everyone is dying/fighting/getting wounded for a good cause. The “sleep” of death is mending for sinners. You’ve done your time, you’re going to get to heaven.

Naught broke save the body, lost but breath – only your body gets broken. Only your breath gets taken from you.

Nothing to shake the laughing heart’s long peace there – nothing can take away your happy, peaceful heart.

But only agony, and that has ending; - OK, you might be in pain for a short time – but that will pass

And the worst friend and enemy is but Death. – your only enemy is the person called “Death”. He has given Death a lifeform/entity. It is someone to get to know as a friend and enemy.

How First World War poetry painted a truer picture

Siegfried Sassoon, one of many WW1 poets who transformed literature's landscape, portrayed the conflict with a gritty realism previously avoided by the romanticists

By Anthony Richards

Head of documents for Imperial War Museum

4:03PM GMT 28 Feb 2014

No conflict has ever been so closely linked with the poetry and literature of its age than the First World War. When we consider the writers who emerged from this era, one of the most prominent is Siegfried Sassoon. His poetry is remembered for the satirical edge of its criticism of the military high command and disdain for unquestioning patriotism, with the anger and indignation present in much of his verse characteristic of many men who served in the trenches.

He also won acclaim for his biographical prose, describing military service on the Western Front in his Memoirs of an Infantry Officer. He served with distinction in the Royal Welch Fusiliers. But Sassoon’s influence extended far beyond his own work, with his journey through the conflict and the friendships he made reflecting the wider evolution of poetry and literature associated with the First World War.

Siegfried Loraine Sassoon was born on September 8, 1886. His parents separated when he was four and his early life was spent with his mother in Kent. Educated at Marlborough, he read history at Cambridge but left in 1907 without a degree and spent the next few years living off a private income inherited after his father’s death, which allowed him to live modestly while indulging his passions of cricket, fox-hunting and romantic poetry.

Along with many others, Sassoon was affected by patriotic fervour at the outbreak of war and enlisted immediately as a trooper in the Sussex Yeomanry. After convalescing from a riding injury, Sassoon applied for a commission and was appointed 2nd Lieutenant in the Royal Welch Fusiliers in May 1915. Six months later, he joined the 1st Battalion in France, where he would not only experience trench warfare, but also meet a fellow poet with whom his life would be inextricably linked.

Despite his higher rank, Captain Robert Graves was younger than Sassoon by nine years and had already gained considerable front-line experience with the 1st Royal Welch Fusiliers, having been on active service in France since April 1915.

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When Sassoon met Graves for the first time in the company mess, the two officers soon discovered a shared love of literature. Sassoon offered his opinion on the poetry that Graves was preparing for publication; initially he disliked what he regarded as the gritty realism of Graves’s work in comparison with his own more traditional poetic imagery and language. In return, Graves introduced Sassoon to the poems of Charles Sorley, an officer who had been killed during the battle of Loos. Sorley’s verse, both unsentimental and critical of “jingoism”, would greatly influence both men. Sassoon and Graves shared a public school background and a love of sport (Graves was a boxer), were both homosexual and, perhaps most notably, had a joint aspiration to establish themselves as published poets.

^{Siegfried with his brother Hamo and other students at Cambridge}

The beginning of Sassoon’s friendship with Graves was also marked by his introduction in 1915 to the true horrors of the First World War. Front-line service was significantly different from the warfare expected by many young men brought up on Victorian tales of dashing military heroes and masculine bravery and honour characterised by well-organised cavalry charges and gleaming uniforms.

The reality of the Western Front for the average soldier could not have been more different. Purposeful activity with a clear objective was replaced by confusion and apparent chaos, cowering in muddy trenches for no obvious reason other than to avoid death, with death itself seldom heroic but rather random and deeply unpleasant. Awakened by this first taste of trench warfare and affected by the appalling conditions and constant danger, Sassoon’s poetry became much harder in both language and tone, with his earlier romantic verse forgotten in favour of the ugly reality he was now experiencing.

The death of his brother Hamo at Gallipoli was another important factor in changing Sassoon’s outlook, although the death in 1916 of David Thomas, a fellow officer with whom Sassoon had developed a deep affection, had an enormous effect on him and changed both his and Graves’s attitude to the war.

The futility and bitterness at the fighting felt by Sassoon was typical of those who had been exposed to the brutality of trench warfare. The anger and despair instilled in him by Thomas’s death led Sassoon to become increasingly unconcerned with personal welfare, earning him the nickname “Mad Jack” and, ultimately, the Military Cross for conspicuous gallantry. Before further heroics proved fatal, a shoulder wound led to Sassoon’s evacuation for convalescence in England in April 1917.

Back in Blighty, Sassoon’s bitterness became even more obvious; he had fully expected to die in the trenches but had returned home a military hero –something he never expected or wanted. This “survivor’s guilt” was instrumental in influencing his decision on June 15, 1917, to make a formal statement in wilful defiance of military authority, questioning the Government’s motives for continuing the war and refusing to fight further.

Graves, also in England serving as a military instructor, supported a medical board’s decision to classify Sassoon as suffering from “shell shock”. On July 23 he arrived at Craiglockhart War Hospital, near Edinburgh, far enough away from London to remove the troublesome poet from public attention.

Much has been written of the famous meeting at Craiglockhart on August 18, 1917, of Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. An aspiring poet influenced by the work of Keats, Owen had been serving as a subaltern with the 2nd Manchester Regiment in France since December 1916, and had suffered several particularly bad instances of being bombarded while in flooded dugouts. In March 1917 he fell into a collapsed cellar and suffered concussion for some time before being rescued, while the following month he was blown off his feet by a shell explosion. Beginning to develop signs of nervous exhaustion, Owen was evacuated home for treatment at the beginning of May.

^{Wilfred Owen, left, and Robert Graves, right}

Timidly visiting his hospital room, Owen asked Sassoon to autograph his copy of the recently published The Old Huntsman and Other Poems. Sassoon obliged and agreed to meet Owen again in order to look through his own draft poetry, which Sassoon felt showed promise. He advised Owen to “sweat your guts out” on further poems. What began as hero worship developed over the following weeks into a firm friendship, with Sassoon inspiring Owen who, in a letter to his mother, described the older poet as “the greatest friend I have”.

Sassoon proved a profound influence on Owen’s poetry and offered amendments to many of his most famous works such as “Anthem for Doomed Youth”(a title suggested by Sassoon). The graphic language and direct questioning used by Sassoon was adopted by Owen, who arguably surpassed his mentor in both style and effect. After leaving Craiglockhart, both officers continued to correspond until Owen’s death in action seven days before the Armistice.

The period of Sassoon’s convalescence in late 1917 saw him become something of a celebrity among the artistic crowd in London. However, the greatest critical admiration that year was reserved for Robert Nichols’s collection Ardours and Endurances. Sassoon met Nichols at a poetry reading on November 15, 1917, where they shared a mutual admiration for Sorley. Nichols’s service as an artillery officer at the front had been relatively brief before he was invalided out suffering from shell shock, which may have distanced him from the still-serving Sassoon, but they became firm friends. Both men had taken their wartime trauma and anger as inspiration for their poetry and by the end of the war, Sassoon, together with Graves, Nichols and other contemporaries, were regarded as the leading poets of the age.

Peace meant the anger and satire which characterised Sassoon’s writing was diluted and he returned to the pre-war world in a series of biographies, starting with Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man in 1928. The events of the whole war could now be portrayed within a wider context, and the memoirs, novels and verse of Sassoon and others reflected an increased public antipathy to war and the growth of pacifist organisations. Appearing the same year was Undertones of War, a memoir written by a former infantry officer, Edmund Blunden. Blunden’s background was not dissimilar to that of Sassoon: an idyllic childhood in Kent before leaving school with a scholarship to Oxford in July 1915; commissioned into the Royal Sussex Regiment and arriving in France in early 1916, he too won the Military Cross.

Robert Graves’s Goodbye To All That followed in 1929, although the self-confessed sensationalist nature of the memoir and looseness with historical truth led many of Graves’s contemporaries, notably Sassoon and Blunden, to decry it as an unfaithful depiction of events. Testament of Youth (1933), written by the former VAD nurse Vera Brittain, was heavily influenced by these earlier memoirs and reflected upon the deaths of the author’s fiancé Roland Leighton, her brother and other close friends.

Sassoon’s influence extended to helping promote the work of poets who had failed to survive the war and witness the wider appreciation of their verse. He would prove instrumental in the posthumous publication of Owen’s collected poetry in 1920, and that of Isaac Rosenberg in 1937. While Sassoon shared with Rosenberg the literary patron Eddie Marsh, they never met before Rosenberg’s death in action on April 1, 1918. Sassoon’s foreword to Rosenberg’s Collected Works revealed that he hoped to gain for him “the full recognition of his genius which has hitherto been delayed”. By the Sixties, both Rosenberg and Owen had emerged as among the most important of all the war poets.

The era of the First World War had seen a distinctive mood change among writers. Inspired by first-hand experience of the trenches, poets such as Sassoon distinguished themselves from the “old guard” of Conan Doyle, Kipling and Hardy who had traditionally portrayed war in a lyrical, romantic way. The nature of war itself had changed dramatically and it was this gritty realism which Sassoon and his contemporaries embraced and which would directly influence future literature and poetry of the 20th century.

More from Inside the First World War, part seven:

Four artists who defined the conflict >>

Four writers who defined the conflict >>

Four composers who defined the conflict >>

'We're all ready to lay down everything if needs be' >>

He stood by his gun as shells started major fires >>

Vaughan Williams: ‘A vivid awareness of how men died’ >>

'The Dead-Beat': Wilfred Owen's poem of despair >>