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Sonnets from a prison camp

Chapter 12: VII
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About This Book

A sequence of sonnets composed by a soldier in enemy captivity during the First World War, recording frontline violence, the suddenness of bombardment, marches and captures, the strain of waiting and the loss of comrades, and the solace found in memory and poetic labour. Many poems juxtapose immediate scenes—exploding shrapnel, crowded billets, marches, and internment camps—with reveries of homeland landscapes and classical or moral reflections. Sections move between field incidents, the nadir of imprisonment, thoughts of home and influences, and short epigrams or maxims, showing how verse acted as a mental bulwark against despair while exploring themes of fate, endurance, and the persistence of inner freedom.

VII

What of our comrades in the forward post?
The fog of war but deepened with the day.
We knew that in that troubled ocean lay
Uncharted shoals, blind rocks, and treacherous coast.
And what of yonder never-ending host
Of wan, unwounded Portuguese? Ah, stay,
Pale sergeant. Do you bleed? You came that way?
What is the tidings? Is the front line lost?
“Nothing is known of posts that lie before
Laventie. At the cross-roads hellish fire
Has cut them off who shouldered the first load.”
Can they live through it? “They can not retire,
Nor can you reinforce. I know no more
But this. No living thing comes down that road.”

Rastatt, 30th April