Soldier's Meditation

 Dear Reader,

The word 'soldier' derives from the Middle English word 'soudent' from the old French 'soudeer' meaning mercenary which comes from 'soudee' which means a shilling's worth or wage.  The word is also related to the Medieval Latin 'soldarius' meaning soldier (literally "one having pay").

The first English standing army was formed by Oliver Cromwell in 1645 during the Civil War.   His soldiers were highly disciplined and trained.  The term British Army was adopted in 1707 after the Acts of Union between England and Scotland.

In certain cases, a soldier can advance and transition to officer during the course of his/her career.  Officers are generally employed in management roles or highly specialized fields that require professional degrees (eg. doctors, lawyers and chaplains). 

Since the earliest recorded history, soldiers and warfare have been depicted in countless works, including songs, folk tales, stories, memoirs, biographies, novels and other narrative fiction.  Often these portrayals have emphasized the heroic qualities of soldiers in war, but at times have emphasized war's inherent dangers, confusions and trauma and their effect on individual soldiers and others.

My father fought in the first WW but never spoke about it.  He was gassed and ever afterwards had headaches and felt ill frequently. 

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From William Cobbett  1823 September 1st in Kent

'From Tenterden I set off at five o'clock and got to Appledore after a most delightful ride, the high land upon my right, and the low land upon my left.  The fog was so thick and white along some of the low land, that I should have taken it for water, if little hills and trees had not risen up through it here and there.'

 

From Gilbert White  1774 September 4th in Hampshire

'Wood-owls hoot much.'

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Soldier’s Meditation

 

 

 

My cigarette time-burns,

my body trembles,

only minutes now

until the action starts.

 

Am I brave?   no, not brave

I am shit-scared,

my body reeks.

The last drop of whisky

wets my parched lips.

I light another cigarette.

 

I hold this gun to hide behind.

With it, I will aim and slaughter

someone unknown, someone’s son,

mother, father, daughter.

 

 

If killed, I want no part in bands playing,

or speeches glorifying my sacrifice.

I want no weeping, seen or unseen,

pitying those who were,

those who had been.

 

Go, action, ready, time to start.

Dear God, do leaden wings always fly

a universal soldier’s heart?

 

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With best wishes, Patricia