The Deserter - Winifred M. Letts

[Pheline]

The Deserter

There was a man,- don't mind his name.
Whom Fear had dogged by night and day.
He could not face the German guns
And so he turned and ran away,
Just that- he turned and ran away,
But whop can judge him, you or I?
God makes a man of flesh and blood
Who yearns to live and not to die.
And this man when he feared to die
Was scared as any frightened child,
his knees were shaking under him,
His breath came fast, his eyes were wild,
with throbbing heart and sobbing breath.
But oh! it shames one's soul to see
A man in abject fear of death.
But fear had gripped him, so had death;
His number had gone up that day,
They might not heed his frightened eyes,
They shot him when the dawn was grey,
He stood there in a place apart,
The shots rang out and down he fell,
An English bullet in his heart.
An English bullet in his heart!
But here's the irony of life,-
His mother thinks he fought and fell
A hero, foremost in the strife.
So she goes proudly; to the strife
Her best, her hero son she gave.
O well for her she does not know
He lies in a deserter's grave.



Winifred Letts feels a sens of outrage and injustice at the treatment
of the deserter. She thinks it very ironic. The boy gets an English
bullet in his heart, so he gets murdered by his own friends or
soldiers because of the fact he's just so scared to death and wants to
flee away from the big fight.
The speaker tells of the deserter's mother who thinks her son died a
hero, serving his country in battle. The speaker suggets that it is
best for the mother not to know that her son lies in a deserter's
grave.

The poem recalls a lot of images and I would be pleased to know you
opinion on this matter.
If you have any thoughts by this or other similar poems in your mind,
please let me know.

Pheline

[Nathn]

I totally agree

[DJ]

I have always felt that this poem has an affinity with Sassoon's;

Sassoon: The Hero

‘Jack fell as he’d have wished,’ the Mother said,
And folded up the letter that she’d read.
‘The Colonel writes so nicely.’ Something broke
In the tired voice that quavered to a choke.
She half looked up. ‘We mothers are so proud
Of our dead soldiers.’ Then her face was bowed.

Quietly the Brother Officer went out.
He’d told the poor old dear some gallant lies
That she would nourish all her days, no doubt.
For while he coughed and mumbled, her weak eyes
Had shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy,
Because he’d been so brave, her glorious boy.

He thought how ‘Jack’, cold-footed, useless swine,
Had panicked down the trench that night the mine
Went up at Wicked Corner; how he’d tried
To get sent home, and how, at last, he died,
Blown to small bits. And no one seemed to care
Except that lonely woman with white hair.

http://home.clara.net/stevebrown/html/expeience_of_war/sassoon_the_hero.htm

But what a contrast there is between these two poems and the early
19th century ballad which concludes;

My sword and sash and blue coat too,
To them I left behind,
And on my journey did pursue,
Some secret place to find.
To the light horse I bid adieu,
Which once was my delight,
And on my journey I'll pursue,
And travel in the night.

http://bodley24.bodley.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/acwwweng/ballads/image.pl?ref=Harding+B+11(2589)&id=03491.gif&seq=1&size=0


Or this;

As I was a walking along the highway,
The recruiting party came beating that way,
They enlisted me, and treated me, till I did not know,
Then to the queen's barracks they forced me to go.

When first I deserted I thought myself free,
Until my cruel comrade informed against me;
I was quickly followed after and brought back with speed,
I was handcuffed and guarded, heavy irons on me.

Court Martial, court martial, they held upon me,
And the sentence pass'd on me three hundred and three:
May the Lord have mercy on them, for their cruelty,
For now the queen's duty lays heavy on me.

http://bodley24.bodley.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/acwwweng/ballads/image.pl?ref=2806+c.14(9)&id=13102.gif&seq=1&size=0

.........................

The 'three hundred....' was three hundred lashes of 'the cat'. A
flogging with a rather nasty whip.

[Logan Naidoo]

Pheline,

 

Thanks for sharing the poem with us.

 

The poem does leave a lingering sadness in me.I think we all fear death ,and depending on the individual,in varying degrees.Does running away from danger,make one less patriotic? Frankly, I do not know how I would react in circumstances similar to the one that the "deserter" had faced. I recall one event that almost cost me my life as a young student.

 

My mother and I were very close to each other.She was extremely obsessed with my safety.

When "death touched my shoulder"  I summoned all the energy in my body to escape it to

spare my mother the pain of loss of her son. While staring at death in its face, pictures

of my agonizing mother flit before my eyes.It is likely that in some (or many) cases,individuals

flee from situations  ,not for selfish motives,thinking of the predicament of their loved ones should they be killed. In The Deserter, there is not enough given to establish the motives that impelled the soldier to flee.

 

Being one that abhors war, I resolved never to fight for my country unless it is in self-defense.

Individuals should never be compelled to fight for a country.I find  compelling ione to fight for

one's country as reprehensible and immoral.Why should one be forced to risk one's life.If an individual defends a country of his own volition,that is another matter. But pushing one to the frontline against one's wishes?

 

The English soldier eluded the bullets of the Germans, but not those of his own country>.How

ironic and sad! Similarly, I oppose the death penalty. I wonder whose barbarity is more

reprehensible? A perpetrator of a murder or the one who executes him?

 

The mother of the deserter did not know the true circumstances of her son'e death. Since the truth would bring her greater grief,she should be spared the truth. Furthermore,nobody incurs a loss as a result of the "lie".

 

 

I look forward to responses to the poem from other members.

 

Logan

[Steffi]

HI,

First of all I would like to say this poem is amongst my favorite war
poems. It's simplicity, not to confuse with banality, really touched
me.
It also depicts the scene very well. I can almost see it happen (even
though it's very hard to imagine such cruelty).
I experience the same feeling as the writer. By repeating the sentence
"an English bullet in his heart", the writer emphasizes his impotence.
"How is this possible?".
I agree that fusillading the deserters is a very hypocritical thing
to do. They all condamn the German soldiers ('the fritz') for killing
the English ones, but they kill English soldiers too. And aren't these
German soldiers just doing what they ought to do? If they don't kill
the English and just flee, they are deserters too and will be punished
for this.
Another thought that occured was that they should not condamn this
people for being scared of death, because it's such a natural feeling.
Everybody has it, but perhaps some people are strong enough to
suppress it.
I must say I was also very interested in Logan's ideas. That's
something to think about!