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It is the Soldier

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    It is the Soldier

    It is the Soldier, not the Minister
    Who has given us Freedom of Religion

    It is the Soldier, not the reporter
    who has given us freedom of the Press

    It is the Soldier, not the Poet
    who has given us freedom of speech

    It is the Soldier, not the campus organiser
    who has given us freedom to protest

    It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
    who has given us the right to a fair trial

    It is the Soldier, not the politician
    who has given us the right to vote

    It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
    who serves beneath the flag
    and whose coffin is draped by the flag
    who allows the protester to burn the flag

    Poignant words and sentiments at this time of year.

    “The period of the disintegration of the European Union has begun. And the first vessel to have departed is Britain”

    #2
    Originally posted by shaunbhoy View Post
    It is the Soldier, not the Minister
    Who has given us Freedom of Religion

    It is the Soldier, not the reporter
    who has given us freedom of the Press

    It is the Soldier, not the Poet
    who has given us freedom of speech

    It is the Soldier, not the campus organiser
    who has given us freedom to protest

    It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
    who has given us the right to a fair trial

    It is the Soldier, not the politician
    who has given us the right to vote

    It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
    who serves beneath the flag
    and whose coffin is draped by the flag
    who allows the protester to burn the flag

    Poignant words and sentiments at this time of year.

    You missed out the rape and pillage bits
    "A people that elect corrupt politicians, imposters, thieves and traitors are not victims, but accomplices," George Orwell

    Comment


      #3
      Originally posted by Paddy View Post
      You missed out the rape and pillage bits
      And the despots and dictators, backed up by little soldier boys.
      I am what I drink, and I'm a bitter man

      Comment


        #4
        This is a more apt poem for today, from a soldier who saw the dark side of war and not the glory, and thankfully produced some beautiful poetry before he was killed.


        It seemed that out of battle I escaped
        Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
        Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

        Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
        Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
        Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
        With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
        Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
        And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,—
        By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

        With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
        Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
        And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
        “Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
        “None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
        The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
        Was my life also; I went hunting wild
        After the wildest beauty in the world,
        Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
        But mocks the steady running of the hour,
        And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
        For by my glee might many men have laughed,
        And of my weeping something had been left,
        Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
        The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
        Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
        Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
        They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
        None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
        Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
        Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
        To miss the march of this retreating world
        Into vain citadels that are not walled.
        Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
        I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
        Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
        I would have poured my spirit without stint
        But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
        Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

        “I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
        I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
        Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
        I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
        Let us sleep now. . . .”
        I am what I drink, and I'm a bitter man

        Comment


          #5
          Originally posted by shaunbhoy View Post
          It is the Soldier, not the Minister
          Who has given us Freedom of Religion

          It is the Soldier, not the reporter
          who has given us freedom of the Press

          It is the Soldier, not the Poet
          who has given us freedom of speech

          It is the Soldier, not the campus organiser
          who has given us freedom to protest

          It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
          who has given us the right to a fair trial

          It is the Soldier, not the politician
          who has given us the right to vote

          It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
          who serves beneath the flag
          and whose coffin is draped by the flag
          who allows the protester to burn the flag

          Poignant words and sentiments at this time of year.

          It is the soldier at the behest of his masters. Soldiers don't decide policy. They just try to implement it. (Often very bravely and self-sacrificingly).
          Down with racism. Long live miscegenation!

          Comment


            #6
            We think too much and feel too little..


            "Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience". Mark Twain

            Comment


              #7
              Outrage at British Army after 1,000 ‘old and worn out’ hero dogs are KILLED instead of being rehomed

              Outrage at British Army after 1,000 '''old and worn out''' hero dogs are KILLED instead of being rehomed
              "A people that elect corrupt politicians, imposters, thieves and traitors are not victims, but accomplices," George Orwell

              Comment


                #8
                Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
                …Maybe we ain’t that young anymore

                Comment


                  #9
                  Originally posted by DoctorStrangelove
                  From someone with rather more experience:

                  Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen | Poetry Foundation

                  It's one of the few poems I remember from school days, one of the few pieces of latin I remember, and one sentiment that maybe a few others could do with learning.

                  War is not something to be glorified with head banging smilies. Soldiers deaths should be respectfully remembered, not used - as their lives are - as political cannon fodder.
                  …Maybe we ain’t that young anymore

                  Comment


                    #10
                    Indeed.

                    Army won't be able to function without recruiting migrants
                    I'm alright Jack

                    Comment

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