Soldier's Meditation

 Dear reader,

The Chinese fire lance is generally considered the first gun, emerging in China between 10th and 12th centuries.   It was essentially a gun-powder filled bamboo or metal tube, often attached to a spear, designed to project flames and, later, shrapnel or projectiles.  This invention was a direct precursor to the modern firearm and was developed following the Chinese invention of gunpowder in the 9th century.

Guns particularly matchlock muskets and arquebuses were present and increasingly common on the 1500s, especially Europe. The technology of firearms spread through Eurasia, and by the 16th century  they were a decisive factor in warfare used in various formations and becoming more prolific in armies and arsenals.

The Brown Bess musket (1722-1838) is arguably the most famous musket in history.   Standard issue for British infantry during the 18th and early 19th centuries.  This flintlock musket was used in countless conflicts including the American Revolution, Napoleonic Wars and War of 1812.

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I have been reading about the brave men of the SAS who fought in the Iraqi was against Saddam Hussein.The things they had to do in the freezing dessert are beyond what I can think about, so brave were our soldiers.  At that time they thought that Saddam had weapons of mass destruction, which he didn't.

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From Dorothy Wordsworth    September 14th  1800 in Westmorland

'A lovely day.   Read Boswell in the house in the morning,  after dinner under the bright yellow leaves of the orchard.  The pear trees a bright yellow.   The apple trees still green.  A sweet and lovely afternoon.'

From D.H. Lawrence  September 16th 1919 in Berkshire

'Pleasant mild autumn, many mushrooms, smoke from cottage gardens, chilly evenings , etc.'

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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 very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

 

 

 

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