dedalus Posted April 19, 2012 Share Posted April 19, 2012 Singapore collapsed and our boys taken prisoner by the Japanese, a barbarian enemy by any description. There but for fortune if I’d signed up three months earlier. They shipped us out the long way, down around the cape of Africa. Frightful conditions on board in the usual style of the British army, with gins and tonic for the officers and death and dysentery for Other Ranks. No, that was the Boer War. So many wars. They’d learned a bit since then. I got a case of the clap on our shore leave and the doctor, a Baptist, previously friendly, became cold and distant. I was flexible. He was not. I was no longer welcome at the Friday lectures on Jane Austen, Dickens, and Thackeray, which all the bored people on board piled into. Thackeray would have enjoyed this doctor and would have speared him like a fish, whereas Dickens would simply have given him a silly name. Ms. Austen, being of the feminine persuasion, would not have been listened to, not by this chap, who knew precisely what was what. She was a dead woman who kept banging on about marriage, about love and feelings, other sloppy things, while the doctor dealt in grains and ounces and ccs. My literary interests being thus curtailed. I started shooting at seagulls. I was vindictive, I was actually trying to hit them. They were too smart, too quick. We came closer to shore: Bombay. I was cured. Penicillin! On shore leave I went to Madam Sitaram’s famous establishment where to my total astonishment and lack of enthusiasm I came in contact with Major Foster, our medical officer, smiling like a ghoul, surrounded by a bevy of half-naked ladies. Good evening, sir! Having a good time, are we? Ahh, Corporal what’s–your-name, perhaps you can be of some assistance? If you could kindly pass out these hymn sheets? Thank you so much. I believe you play the piano? Perhaps we could begin? From Greenland’s icy mountains, from India’s coral strand; Where Africa’s sunny fountains roll down their golden sand: From many an ancient river, from many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver their land from error’s chain. What though the spicy breezes blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle; Though every prospect pleases, and only man is vile? In vain with lavish kindness the gifts of God are strown; The heathen in his blindness bows down to wood and stone. Oh, God. We are moving on to war. None of this feels real. Why dear God, if there is a God, in our last moments of peace and contentment as we move towards war, towards death and disfigurement, do you plague us with Army chaplains? Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
JoelJosol Posted April 20, 2012 Share Posted April 20, 2012 I read both poems, dedalus. I enjoyed them, allowing to read insights into an individual's life while providing context and in a poem at that:-) Quote "Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted April 25, 2012 Share Posted April 25, 2012 Enjoyed reading about the journey. (I'm glad I wasn't there!) Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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