To a Conscript of 1940
by Hebert Read
A soldier passed me in the freshly fallen snow,
His footsteps muffled, his face unearthly grey;
And my heart gave a sudden leap
As I gazed on a ghost of five and twenty years ago.
I shouted Halt! and my voice had the old accustomed ring
And he obeyed it as it was obeyed
In the shrouded days when I too was one
Of an army of young men marching
Into the unknown. He turned towards me and I said :
‘I am one of those who went before you
Five-and-Twenty years ago: one of the many who never returned,
Of the many who returned and yet were dead.
We went where you were going, into the rain and mud;
We fought as you will fight
With death and darkness and despair;
We gave what you will give – our brains and our blood.
We thing we gave in vain. The world was not renewed.
There was hope in the homestead and anger in the streets
But the old world was restored and we returned
To the dreary field and workshop, and the immemorial feud
Of the rich and poor. Our victory was our defeat.
Power was retained where power has been misused
And youth was left to sweep away
The ashes that the fire had strewn beneath our feet.
But one thing we learned: there is no glory in the deed
Until the soldier wears a badge of tarnished braid;
There are heroes who have heard the rally and have seen
The glitter of a garland round their head.
There is the hollow victory. They are deceived.
But you, my brother and my ghost, if you can go
Knowing that there is no reward, no certain use
In all your sacrifice, then honour is reprieved.
To fight without hope is to fight with grace,
The self reconstructed, the false heart repaired
Then I turned with a smile, and he answered my salute
As he stood against the fretted hedge, which was like white lace.
Recommended by Brigadier Randhir Sinh of the 4/3 Gorkha Rifles