Dulce et Decorum est

I thought I'd write something for the memory of those who fought and died, giving their lives for causes good and bad. I just hope I never have the bloody and brutal inspiration which made Wilfred Owen the finest poet (in my opinion) that these Isles have ever produced. Have we learned anything from the sacrifices of people such as Wilfred Owen and the millions of others we never heard of ?
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Wilfred Owen
Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

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As my father served in the RAF and lost many friends, I feel it is important to remember the sacrifice of those who died. I had intended writing a completely different blog, but being a Roman Catholic, I attended Mass this evening. Father Fergus Kelly gave a radically different sermon to that which we normally get. He briefly told us that his father served in the first world war.  He told us that when he was a small boy, he asked his father if he'd ever killed anyone. His father looked sad and said "Go on Fergus and play outside". He then read Wilfred Owens poem "Dulce et Decorum est". No commentary, no religious perspective, just Owens words, then he continued with the usual service. It rather moved me so I thought I'd share it with you.  I think it's a pretty universal message for people of all faiths or no faith at all.