Brothers in Arms

A poem

Zonnebeke (Sir William Orpen, 1918)

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The rumour passed in murmured waves along the forward line
That they’d be up in No Man’s Land in just ten minutes time.
He heard the distant whistles blow across the roiling trench,
The turgid waste of callow fear sent up an awful stench.
His gun felt clumsy in his hands, his tongue felt thick and dry,
He'd promised dad he wouldn't run and mum he wouldn't die.
He crossed himself with trembling hands and muttered half a prayer,
The sky took on a shade between delusion and despair.
He fumbled with his helmet strap and looked around to see
If any other soldier here was terrified as he.
Some looked as if they knew eternal judgement lay ahead,
Some looked around as he did now, some looked already dead.
Their eyes were black as amethyst, as white as withered bones,
They shuffled through the mud and mumbled prayers in monotones
And out of this infernal scene a fear began to spread
And swell within his boyish heart and worm into his head,
And just before his mind succumbed to anguish and alarm
He felt a firm and reassuring hand upon his arm.
"Hold up my lad, it's only me" – he turned and saw a grin
Through teeth that held a cigarette above a stubbled chin.
The fearless and familiar face he’d known since they were boys
Calmed all the demons in his head and cut through all the noise.
"Here, take a drag" his brother said, "I've got another pack.
We'll smoke it over dinner when we make it safely back.
It's black as hell out there today; we'll have to play it smart,
I'll like our chances better if we make it past the start."
He watched his older brother slowly light a cigarette
Then hold it 'tween his fingers as he honed his bayonet.
He wondered how he stayed so calm when all around him fell
The ruins of a continent descending into hell.
As if he'd read his brother's mind he looked up from his task,
"Don't think too many thoughts my lad, nor many questions ask –
Yourself or god or any man; you'll find no answers here,"
He spoke with the authority of one beyond his years,
"I don't know why we're here or why we have to go up there
And tear the limbs from lads for whom we wouldn't have a care,
Or take some mother’s son and leave him scattered in the dirt:
Except we've names like James and Tom, and they Fritz, Hans and Kurt.
But as for me, I promised mum I'd keep us safe and sound
And that's as good as any cause to make me hold my ground.
Though truth be known," he softly said, "I'm terrified as well,
As much of dying as of living through this living hell."
The sergeant of the regiment let out a shrill command
To take their place before the ladders into No Man's Land.
His brother took one final drag and flicked the butt aside,
"Come life or death, I'll take them with my brother by my side!
Head down, eyes up, I'll take the lead," then round his shoulder slung
His rifle and with firm resolve he took the open rung.
The sky was thick with brackish smoke above Gehenna's glades,
The air with flying death, the ground with coiling razor blades
When down The Reaper came and silently began to wrench
The souls from poor young lads who clambered from the roiling trench.

                                                   ~

When he awoke with bandages around his broken head
They said it was a miracle they hadn't found him dead.
They'd made their way at daybreak when the guns began to yield;
Their orders from the sergeant, "Leave the corpses on the field.
Take only any wounded who you think will have a chance
And leave the rest to bless the bare and broken fields of France."
He couldn't quite remember how he managed to survive,
And nobody would tell him how they found him still alive.
The nurse would whisper later when she found some time apart –
They'd found his brother on him with a bullet through his heart.

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