100 years on from the battle of the Somme.
On Somme - Ivor Gurney
Suddenly into the still air burst thudding
And thudding and cold fear possessed me all,
On the gray slopes there, where Winter in sullen brooding
Hung between height and depth of the ugly fall
Of Heaven to earth; and the thudding was illness own.
But still a hope I kept that were we there going over
I, in the line, I should not fail, but take recover
From others courage, and not as coward be known.
No flame we saw, the noise and the dread alone
Was battle to us; men were enduring there such
And such things, in wire tangled, to shatters blown.
Courage kept, but ready to vanish at first touch.
Fear, but just held. Poets were luckier once
In the hot fray swallowed and some magnificence.
Poet Ivor Gurney served as a private with the Gloucestershire Regiment (the Glorious Glosters) and was wounded in the Somme. He suffered with PTSD after the war.
"Hopefully" by Kate Emsley the winning entry in a competition held in schools in 2016 as part of the commemoration of the battle of the Somme.
Hopefully, I tell them,
hopefully, it will be over soon.
One big push and we’ll get there.
I’ll be home soon.
There were six of us to begin with,
six from my small town,
friends since we were children.
I’m the only one alive.
They promised us it’d be short –
a few days, weeks at most –
but the days are all stretched out
and the weeks became months.
I’ll be home soon, I tell them.
In every letter, again and again:
Remember me to others
and I’ll see you soon.
I can’t tell them the horror,
the number of bodies on the ground,
the mud, the wounds, the injuries,
people from my town.
I try to sound jolly
with my pen in my hand:
How are you? What’s life like?
Don’t worry, I’m fine.
Hopefully, I tell them,
hopefully, it will be over soon.
One big push and we’ll get there.
I’ll be home soon.