Hello Folks,
In honor of Memorial Day I'm posting Honor And Glory. I wrote this back in 1974, a year after I finished my military service. Being an amateur military historian and appreciating the wonderful fantasies and myths of books like The Lord of the Rings, I took a stab at writing a poem depicting combat. It only took me about forty-five minutes to finish the first draft, but, it took many more years to tune it up with rewrites. I don't use the common terminology for units and ranks, but delve into fantasy to find generic terms. The main thing isn't the names but the experience of combat. After spending most of my teen age years, and after, reading histories of the American Civil War, I wanted to express something like that feel to this poem. And maybe find a universality that deals with an historical experience so common so as to transcend any particular place and time. Honor And Glory Projectiles from large enemy thunder tubes Fly overhead seeking some damage to do Our War Group enters the camp left to us With once bright uniforms covered with dust The mounts are nervous, though protected by a rise Shielded from the fire, as our columns arrive Leadmen of Troups hear from Headmen of Bands “There’s no falling out, the column here stands.” Tired men fall from our march in the sun Comrades support them, there’s no place to run Leadmen tell Pack Foremen, “Inspect Warlings through.” File Overlings follow to ensure hearts stay true Warm water is taken from bottles half full While we all listen to the thunder tube duel The longer the waiting, the tenser the nerves Feeling, on today’s action, the conflict may turn Our Chiefman is here, to help form our line Preparing the Bandline, he say’s we’ll do fine We’re all made ready, with skirmishers ahead The thought in our minds, who’ll live or be dead? The Theyn of the War Group arrives with his staff We’re put to attention to hear what he say’s “Friends, Patriots, be proud on this morning, Our freedom now lies in your honor and glory.” “We fight to protect our families and homes. This is our duty, the only way shown. Our enemies enslave us, won’t let us be. Fight for your freedom and destiny.” Checking our arms, fire rods are readied With long blades attached to make them more deadly Our lines are dressed as the thunder tubes stop Then we hear, along the rise, the words, “Over the top.” Our line surges forward, scrambling over the rise Each of us praying to somehow just stay alive How many more races across torn up ground How many more lifetimes to waste, as this now Large thunder tubes take their toll once again Churning up ground, and brave frightened men Struggling along, covered with dirt and sand Praying not to step where projectiles might land My mind stops, suspended, as the inferno is seen Trapped in this unreal, nightmare of a dream What have we done? What was our crime? Forced to pray for survival one more last time Our foot band’s Headman, with banner unfurled Like a man possessed in a alien world Exhorting, cajoling, driving us all along “To stop is dishonor, move forward, be strong.” My mind clouds, past fights merge into one All I know to live, is keep moving, and run Looking back I see we’re far less than before As projectile bursts engulf us once more Littered around are broken mounts and men I know I could never do this again We near the trenches where our enemies lie Their Headmen yelling, while their wounded cry Our thinned line closes the space in-between The enemies’ eyes are scared and mean Their fire rod flashes quicken our pace All locked together in this deadly long race The banner held in our Headman’s strong hands He plants in the trench, where others soon land Our foot band enters, fighting eye to eye The foe’s soon evicted, while many there die The Headman screams, to gather a pursuit We’re all brought together to see the fight through One frightened man panics, crumbling to his knees The rest start off, as the enemy flees Then, a projectile burst knocks me to the ground My mind’s filled with haze, motionless, but sound Trapped in my body, as others pass by I’m aware of life, and afraid to die I see, in my haze, the Headman at bay Prodding the straggler to get on his way Yelling, exhorting, the same old story “Defend your country, for honor, and glory.” With thunder tube bursts again overhead I feel, before long, that I’ll soon be dead The scene with the Headman’s charge continues Till a burst from a tube makes dust of their sinew The smoke soon clears, only crumpled bodies remain Uniforms are shredded, the torn banner hangs Battle sounds relent, to stillness and calm All the dust settles, and the conflict is gone Then after a time the War Theyn appears Seeing the banner brings him close to tears Telling an aide of the Headman’s brave run “Oh, to what cost such bravery is done.” He gets two stretcher bearers to stop To put the Headman’s remains there on top Placing the banner, over the body, once brave They carry it back to a fine hero’s grave Unknown to them, though well I could see The bodies having fallen so close to me Taken was the straggler, in mistaken hurry To fill in for the hero’s honor and glory Jack T. Leyton 1974 Years ago, I happened to read this poem to the father of a friend of mine who was in the U.S. 29th Infantry Division that landed on Omaha Beach, Normandy on D-Day, 1944. He just kind of gave a look like a thousand yard stare and softly said, "Yeah, that's about it." Enough said. God bless and keep all our heroes, past, present and future. Equivalents War Group = Division = 10,000 (+/-) Bandline = Brigade = 3-5,000 Band = Battalion = 500-1,000 Troup = Company = 100-200 Pack = Platoon = 30-45 File = Squad = 8-15 Warling = Soldier from anywhere at anytime Enough said. God bless all our heroes, past, present and future. Cheers, Jack 🖖✌️
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AuthorJack T. Leyton Archives
June 2021
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