Where Once There Was Hope: Profound Words and Images: Volume One: World War One: Life In The Western Front Trenches.

Where Once There Was Hope: Profound Words and Images of War: Volume One: World War One: The Western Front; by Pearldiver features amazing, profound images of the unbearable conditions that an entire generation of outstanding young men and women endured in what was referred to as being The Great War. The photographs and haunting words within the attached war poetry of the day in this article will leave you wondering how such events could ever have been allowed to occur.

This is not about which side was right or wrong; this about people who had dreams and hopes, like you and I. This war was created by politicians who had vested interests in the continuance of the war and used incompetent generals to ensure that those interests were exploited to the fullest. To everyone else, this terrible war was sold as good against evil, duty towards king and country verses cowardice. In reality, it was exactly what was needed to legally apply a new regime of weapons and killing methods under the guise of a call to arms against an aggressor. On both sides, the healthiest, fittest young men were sacrificed by the thousands, in a style of warfare that we can scarcely imagine today. For that very reason, I believe it is in sense, my duty as a writer to honor this generation of brave and broken young people; each of whom had hope that they would have the sort of life that we today, merely take for granted.

This is Volume One of a series called Profound Words and Images of War. In each volume I will feature certain war poems from a variety of international poets of the day, that best suit the montage of pictures. Included in the anthology are some previously unpublished works of an Anzac poet that I have gained publishing rights to. To really appreciate the messages within this work, study the picture and take a second to consider the people in the pictures, before you read the relevant poems. In this way, you gain a deeper understanding of the futility of war and the pain of those who were honorable people sold on the idea that giving up their life, would be the duty expected of them.

Consider that recruits at first, were as young as 14 years old and no older than 35 years old. As that age group were destroyed, the recruiters sought men and boys outside of that age group. They came from nearly every background and a hundred different countries, to fight in what was sold as being a glorious adventure that would only last five months. It lasted nearly five years and millions were killed or wounded. The allied commander Douglas Haig, retired on a sizable pension, knighted for his achievements and knowing that the truth and evidence of the horrors of ‘his’ war were filed under top secret, until long after his death. This series of articles include some of the evidential photographs that would, had they been available for publication during the period, have ensured Haig and his staff would have been held accountable and perhaps shot at dawn; like he had personally ordered of others.

General Warning: Many of the photos here contain the sight of dead bodies and suffering. If the graphic nature of these images offends you then please appreciate how much better life is; when honesty and openness are not compromised. - *Pearldiver*

© Copyright 2010 Pearldiver @ Poems of Hope.com with all rights reserved.

* Why? *

This is my third night here on the front

I was thinking to write the folks at home

That we have fought all day, every day and..

That I am alright, bar dysentery; I dare not moan

Shells scream overhead, more on the way

The flashes light up a night that deeply yawns

So very tired, I feel like I could just drift away

But we expect their bayonet charge, at dawn

I am sure this is my last night here, on the front

Still tired, wish I had told the folks at home, goodbye

Death comes to the lucky ones, too tired to feel why

Oh god why, are you killing us? Who wins - When we all die?

* Thomas Robert Hunter 1917 (Anzac)*

(© Held by author's trust) © Copyright 2010 Pearldiver @ Poems of Hope.com with all rights reserved.

* Suicide in the trenches *

I knew a simple soldier boy

Who grinned at life in empty joy,

Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,

And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,

With crumps and lice and lack of rum,

He put a bullet through his brain.

No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye

Who cheer when soldier lads march by,

Sneak home and pray you'll never know

The hell where youth and laughter go.

* Siegfried Sassoon 1917 (English) *

* Time To Go Home *

Come on mate it is time to go home

Be proud, you have done your bit well

I just need to collect your watch and leather disk

Before you catch the stretcher train back from hell

Be happy mate you have earned a new home

All freshly dug, painted cross and a French view

And 78 good neighbors today, to watch over you,

Come on mate, time to go; I still have the broken ones to do...

* Thomas Robert Hunter 1916 (Anzac)*

(© Held by author's trust) © Copyright 2010 Pearldiver @ Poems of Hope.com with all rights reserved.

* In Flanders Fields *

On Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe

To you, from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

* John McCrae 1915  (Canadian) *

*Siegfried Lorraine Sassoon*

Second Lieutenant Siegfried Sassoon served both in Palestine and France, attached to the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. He was a realist who cared for his men and was angered by the deceit of the commanders. He won a Military Cross, cited for his actions in getting his dead and wounded men back to the Allied trenches. Wounded twice, while convalescing shoulder and upper arm wounds, he courageously wrote and had published his famous 'Soldier's Declaration of Wilful Defiance' after which he was claimed to have been Shell Shocked. Perhaps the upholding of which, saved his life and the careers of Haig and staff.

*Thomas Robert Hunter*

Private Thomas Robert Hunter turned down promotion, apparently so that he would not have to eat at an Officer's Mess with many whom the fighting men considered to be fools. In reality, it was probably more a question of him not wanting to be separated from his comrades. Anzacs all swore that they would always look out for their mates! That was a tradition born during the Boar War and has been honored since. He based the opinion on the number of friends and countrymen that he witnessed the slaughter of in Gallipoli, France and Belgium.

I am told that he was a private man and also a realist, best known by friends for his wit, steely determination and love of (ironically) hunting. The poetry of this Anzac was found in his diaries and has remained unpublished, at the request of his family, who have also requested that this very talented man retains the anonymity and privacy they feel he would have preferred. As such, his surname has been changed here, per agreement and per those wishes.

* Dr. John McCrae*

Major John McCrae was a senior physician attached to the Canadian 1st Field Artillery Brigade and wrote his famous poem 'In Flanders Fields' on the back of what he described as 17 days of Hades (Hell) at Ypres Belgium, where he had experienced war unlike he had seen before; even after having served in the bloody Boar War in South Africa. During this battle Dr.McCrae operated on fellow Canadians, French, Indian, British and German soldiers, in true medical tradition of not being swayed by a man's color or nationality. As with today, those medical staff always give so much of themselves at times when they could do with someone giving to them.

John McCrae was inspired to write his masterpiece by the loss of one of his friends who had been blown into fragments during the fighting and had to be gathered and buried in a blanket, at Essex Farm beside his dressing station (referred to as Flanders Fields). He actually threw his poem away in the belief that it had little bearing on the killing, but a colleague forwarded the poem to Punch publications who printed it and consequently ensured that yes it did indeed have a bearing on the war, albeit one of remembrance that has immortalized this poet's words.

© Copyright 2010 Pearldiver @ Poems of Hope.com with all rights reserved.

If you have read the poetry above, could you please take a second and rate the poems here. By doing so, you are helping the author fulfill a future project that will honor these poets. Thanks for that..

*Pearldiver*