A Brief OVERVIEW
• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4Lzo
_EXXOQ&feature=related
• http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qts3K
3KznN4&feature=related
World War I
•Began August 3, 1914
•Ended November 11, 1918
•Also called
–The Great War
–The War to End all Wars
Poets and POEMS
"My subject is War, and the pity of War.
The Poetry is in the pity."
Wilfred Owen
(1893-1918)
poet, patriot, soldier, pacifist
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.
Wildfred Owen – A letter home
"Dearest Mother, So thick is the smoke in this cellar that I can
hardly see by a candle 12 inches away. And so thick are the
inmates that I can hardly write for pokes, nudges, and jolts. On
my left, the company commander snores on a bench. It is a great
life. I am more oblivious than the less, dear mother, of the
ghastly glimmering of the guns outside and the hollow crashing
of the shells.
I hope you are as warm as I am, soothed in your room as I am
here. I am certain you could not be visited by a band of friends
half so fine as surround us here. There is no danger down here or if any, it will be well over before you read these line..."
This was Owen’s
LAST LETTER HOME
Only a couple of days before the end of the
war, Owen wrote this letter after he and his
fellow soldiers took refuge from German
shelling in the cellar of a destroyed house.
They were all in high-spirits due to the
speculation that the war would soon be over
and the belief they might survive it. Owens
was killed not long after finishing the letter.
Life in the Trenches . . .
was difficult, filthy and morose.
Trench System
The Front Line
Water Logged
Trenches
Trench Foot
Result from the daily exposure to filthy,
disease-filled water common in the
bottom of trenches.
Gas Masks
Used to prevent a horrid, painful slow
death resulting from mustard gas
attacks.
Contaminated Water caused
Dysentery
Preparing a fire for food
Food had to be prepared on small fires.
Most governments made sure
that the men in the trenches did not
go hungry, even though there were
shortages of food at home. The
troops received plenty of tinned
food, bread, jam and biscuits and
the British also produced food
called Maconochie, 'a meal in a tin',
which was quite popular.
Nevertheless, the rations were dull
and sometimes inedible.