September MGWAT

[Gunboat]

Artists, poets, writers pick up your pens, paintbrushes and pallets or sit with keen fingers poised over keyboard. The summer holiday is over lets have your entries for this months MGWAT and brighten up the shorter evenings of autumn

"He was a good officer"

[ypres1418]

Thinking cap on, nice title.

Mandy

[squirrel]

He was five foot six in his riding boots

And weighed about 9 stone dripping wet.

He had a moustache, well, two hairs and a space,

And his smile looked like it was set.

He must have left school last month or less

And his uniform all pressed and clean.

But his Sam Brown belt's old and creaky

The only bit of him that service has seen.

He was full of himself and he talked quite posh

His affected manner had us in fits.

Where he would lead us Gawd only knew

And each time the old Sergeant sees him he spits.

Then he raises his eyes up to heaven

and gives us his sly old wink.

For this boy had become our leader now

No matter what any might think.

So, we did his bidding and as we was told,

And when he got himself in a lather,

He was wise enough to heed the old Sergeant

Who guided him just like a father.

His schoolboy jollity soon wore off

He learned fast and took things serious enough.

Even the old sweats had a grudging respect for him

But what would happen when the going got rough?

He was first over the top on that first trench raid

Like a terrier after the hunt.

He was everywhere at once but he brought us back safe;

Others didn't on a nearby stunt.

Whatever he said to the prisoner Lord knows

But he got him to talk alright.

And he handed him on with a handshake

As the dawn took over from night.

In our first attack he led from the front

With cane and revolver and cap.

For he would never wear a steel helmet

Nor duck or take cover; a real "chap".

He insisted that we wore our helmets,

took cover, advanced in small groups.

Stayed close to the barrage but not too close;

Some said we were jumping through hoops!

But he brought us through that first battle

With small losses and wounded and all.

The boy was a man now and felt it.

If any of his lads was to fall.

And he wrote to each one of their families

Never less than the whole of one page.

Out of the line he would visit the wounded,

Saying "Anything I can do to oblige?".

For two years we were his children

And he became like a father to us.

Not a man in the Company didn't respect him.

Not a man didn't have his complete trust.

And like all the best men he copped it

From a sniper near Plugstreet Wood.

And the bearers they got him in sharpish

And the MO did all that he could.

But, he died and we had to leave him

In that hell hole in a makeshift grave.

And all of us sad at the loss of him;

He was a good Officer; my Officer. The bravest of the brave.

[ypres1418]

Squirrel,

A very moving, thoughtful poem, excellant.

Mandy

[Ozzie]

That was quick, Squirrel.

Bloody, bloody brilliant!!!!!!

Kim

[squirrel]

Thank you for your kind comments. Started it yesterday afternoon and finished it off this morning. Glad you like it.

[Gunboat]

An excellent start and surely the record for quickest off the marks.

I like your use of para-rhymes and your use of humour to add to the real sense of it being written by someone recalling an officer with great fondness.

[squirrel]

Thank you sir. Your comments are much appreciated.

[susanhemmings]

Squirrel, that is superb. Very moving. I like it very very much.

Well done.

Susan.

[squirrel]

Thank you. Much appreciated.

[Gunboat]

He was a Good Officer

Captain Munroe had been sat over the same piece of paper for ten minutes and hadn’t written a single word. He was usually good at paperwork. When he took over as C Company Commander rather than being overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the paperwork demanded from him, he thrived on it. Indeed he had received special praise from the adjutant for being the only company officer to understand the finer nuances between the Effective Strength Return, the Fighting Strength Return and Trench Strength Return

But it was little consolation to him now. This was different. It was not that he hadn’t had to write such a letter before. He had many times, but had never before had to do so such a mix of conflicting emotions; because he wasn’t sure how he felt about the subject, whether he admired or loathed the man. The only thing of which he was certain of regarding 2/Lt Andrew Price is that he envied him. Not just his youth, his good looks or even the privileged background he came from. What Munroe envied most was Price’s popularity, both with his brother officers and the other ranks. Yes Munroe was efficient, possibly even respected and he knew the men thought him brave, but he was not liked: he did not know how to talk to people beyond issuing or confirming orders.

He went to write again but stopped. Instead he tapped the pen against his head and thought back to that day.

He had just finished some paperwork and had thrown the bundle in the despatch tray with a self-satisfied sigh. He looked at his watch, the men would be getting their lunchtime rations, he checked the duty roster although he already knew what it said 2/Lt Price was Orderly Officer. Munroe knew that meant Price would be doing his rounds to check that the men had got the rations ok and that the food was edible. He did so quite informally without ceremony. Munroe decided he would go with Price on his rounds today, he wanted to see for himself what is was Price did that made the men like him so much. He picked up his helmet and put his head around the mud wall that separated his room from the company office. The CSM was sat at his own small desk also embroiled in paper work he stiffened when Munroe spoke.

“Sergeant Major, I am bored with paperwork, I’m just going to have a look about, see what is going on”

The Sergeant Major lifted his vast bulk from the chair and reached for his own helmet. Munroe stopped him.

“No it’s alright Sgt Major, stay where you are” and as he went out the dug out door he followed up with “Carry on with what you are doing”

“Yes sir, Righto Sir” The Sgt Major sat back down heavily he had been soldiering long enough to know not to ask any unnecessary questions, so having made sure Munroe was out of sight, he stretched out his legs from under the desk and took his pipe from his pocket.

Price was nowhere to be seen in the service trench. He had obviously already passed through as a group of men were standing around still talking about him with smiles on their faces. They stopped abruptly as Munroe hurried through toward the fire trench He caught a glimpse of Price’s back as he turned a corner. Munroe increased his pace.

Price was walking along with as nonchalant a stride as he could mange in such cramped conditions. He stopped to let young boy, just relieved from sentry duty to get his rations, step down from the fire-step. The lad’s collar was undone. Price pointed to the boys chest and his head instinctively bobbed down to look. Price then lifted his hand and flicked the boy playfully under the nose with his finger. “Collar!” he said and walked on. The boy with a huge grin on his face immediately did it up. Munroe noticed the boys eyes followed Price down the trench, still creased with the smile until he neared him and the boy stopped smiling and turned away.

When Munroe had caught up with him, Price had stopped and was squatting among a knot of men gathered around two large dixies some of the men went to stand but Munroe waved them down.

“Oh Captain Munroe has joined us for lunch” Price said and the men laughed.

Munroe felt uncomfortable but smiled weakly “I just thought I would accompany on your rounds this afternoon…just to make sure everything is ok” he gave another forced smile to the men sat around, no one smiled back “Carry on Mr Price”

Price turned back to the men “Harris here was just offering me a brew which I am happy to accept” he took the steaming enamel mug. Harris went through the motions of proffering a mug to Munroe but the Captain shook his head.

Price took a long draw from the mug and gave an exaggerated smack of his lips.

“Ahhhhhhh” he said wiping his mouth on his sleeve “ A welcome return of the taste of petrol” the men laughed “I don’t know about you but I missed it, don’t get me wrong I enjoyed this mornings tea, tainted as it was with the heady redolence of onion, but I much prefer petrol”

One of the privates piped up

“ I don’t know why everyone moans about the taste of petrol… I quite like it”

“That, Thompson m’lad, is because you don’t smoke” Price said standing and thrusting the half-full mug into Thomspson’s hand “The rest of us are in mortal dread of belching flames”

The men roared with laughter at this some of them slapping the red-faced but grinning Thompson on the back. Even Munroe felt his lip twitch toward a smile but it was stifled by the pang of jealously that suddenly overwhelmed him.

They moved on toward another group of men sat round around eating. Munroe again noticed how their mood changed as he got near

“Is the stew ok today Williams” Price said ladling a small potion from the dixie and sampling it “Oh yes quite delicious…and for desert?”

“Bloody Bread and Jam again…oh begging your pardon sir” this to Price who pretended not to have heard it “Can’t we have something different from Plum and Apple Jam?”

Price made a great pantomime of putting his fingers in his ears

“ No…No….Williams you cannot utter such traitorous words …Captain Munroe will have to take your name and you will taken away and shot”

Williams and the others laughed.

Price took his notebook from his pocket scribbled a few words tore out the page folded it and held it toward to Williams.

“Go to my dugout give this to my man, Jones. I had two cakes from my mother this morning you can have them” he pulled the note away “to be distributed out fairly with the others mind” Williams having given an assurance with eager nod and there was a chorus of “thank you very much sir” from him and the others. Price released the note.

“don’t get telling everyone or they shall all expect some…and my brother officers shall get very jealous and resentful as they are partial to my mother’s cake” and theatrically behind his hand … “Especially Captain Munroe”

The men laughed and Munroe pretended to share the joke.

They walked on and when in out of sight of the others Munroe pulled Price aside quite roughly by the arm

“Why did you make a fool of me in front of the men?” he snapped

“I had no intention of making you look a fool” he said

“Well I felt I was the butt of your joke” Munroe said his temper fraying

“Well that was not my intention Sir….I thought the men were laughing with you sir not at you”

Munroe was so angry he could hardly speak through his clenched jaw “I should not be the subject of ribaldry at all …and you are an officer not a music hall comic”

Price apologised again but it was punctuated by a shell exploding near the trench and his knees dipped involuntarily

Munroe, who hadn’t flinched at all was surprised by his reaction but didn’t say anything. Instead he told Price to be careful in future.

Another shell landed even closer and a shower of debris covered the two officers.

The fear on Price’s face was now transparent, his eyes were wide open, he was visibly trembling and was leaning as far as he could into the trench wall. He cowered again as another shell thumped close by just in front of their wire

“Good God man you are terrified” Munroe could hardly hide the sneer in his voice

There was no use in Price trying to deny it…he was shaking so much …he could hardly speak

“For god’s sake pull yourself together man” Munroe seeing a flaw in Prices character was filled with a sense of superiority and rather than feeling any pity or compassion for Price he was instead filled with spite and resentfulness… “or shall I fetch the men to see the Oh- so-perfect Mr Price shitting his pants”

Price was able to stammer No sir and started to straighten himself up he stamped his leg to stop it shaking. He brushed the dirt off himself and rubbed his eyes like a child waking from a nightmare.

“Sorry …Sir he said and shambled off …Munroe watched as his Price’s first faltering steps changed into a parody of his nonchalant gait.

Munroe turned his back on him allowing himself a smug smile.

The explosion behind him was close the concussion making Munroe turn on his heels.

Yes there was Price cowering near a funk-hole. He ran down the duckboards his fists clenched tightly

“GET UP PRICE YOU BLOODY COWARD”

He was standing over the curled up body

“I SAID STAND UP YOU COWARD….PRICE…PRICE”

He knelt down, saw the hole in the once handsome face and shouted for the stretcher bearers.

Munroe put his pen to the paper, he felt at last the words come to him:

Dear Mr and Mrs Price

Your son Andrew, was a brave man, and a good officer much loved and admired by all those officers and men who knew him. I count myself as being privileged to be amongst that number….

[susanhemmings]

Gunboat, that was well written and very thoughtful. Had me involved in the two men. I could have read a whole book .....

It is lovely to see the pieces from different perspectives.

Squirrels appears to be from the perspective of the men/a man reflecting on the CO.

Your own fine piece is the higher CO perspective on poor Price and my piece below is a reflection on the CO himself.

Susan

[susanhemmings]

He was a good officer - everyone said

He carried the living - help bury the dead

Born to an age where men must not cry

Packed off to school, hardly any goodbye...

Bore the harsh treatment with all his resolve

The boy to the man then began to evolve

At the end of his schooling the Army became

His family, his lifeline in all except name

He always appeared both cheerful and glad

Looked after his charges as if HE were their Dad

His men clearly loved him - he: them would protect

Treated each man and boy with the uptmost respect

Yes, he was a good officer, of that there's no doubt

Tirelessly gave of himself till his heart finally gave out

As they stood in the service each one could reflect

Then they carried his coffin and gave back their respect

When the coffin was lowered each man stood aside

And watched as their CO was buried with pride

Then the rifles were fired in a final tribute

Yes, he was a good officer - And to that we salute

...............................................................................

(wish I could draw sometimes).

[marina]

Wre're off to a rip roaring start this month with these three entries!

Well done all,

Marina

[Landsturm]

Agree! Great job everyone! And the month is just beginning!

Susan, magnificent job, I had to re-read this out loud

Gunboat, the quality of your story reveals that you have planned this title for a while now Great one! Once again...

Squirrel, great start for this month... The energy and the talent suits you

[Dan Morton]

Susan, Gunboat, Squirrel - Quite marvelous all of you!!! Each piece different, each extremely moving and well done!

All the best,

Dan

[squirrel]

Susan and Gunboat, superb work -well done both of you.

Dan and Landsturm, thank you for your kind comments.

[Ozzie]

Gunboat, you have talent, Sir. I don't know quite how to put it, but, that is a bloody great peice of writing, it draws on so many aspects of the war and the emotions. I wanted to take Monroe out!

Susan, great peice on what makes a good officer in the men's eyes.

Cheers

Kim

[Gunboat]

(wish I could draw sometimes).

Susan you do....you paint with words!

Thank you all for your kind comments

Landsturm! How can you possibly imply that I may have already that that piece in mind when I posted the this months title, I am shocked and stunned at the mere suggestion * coughs *

[susanhemmings]

well Gunboat, whatever you had in mind it came out wonderfully.

Congrats to all.......

Hope we have some more entries to savour.

[Guest soren1916]

I still can't post Guys, but I'm enjoying be a spectator!

[susanhemmings]

Soren, THAT is a terrible shame. So enjoy your art work.... I would have been very interested to see how this could be portrayed in a sketch ....

Sadly

Susan.

[bruce]

I don't know why I read this thread.

I always feel so terribly inadequate in the face of such superb offers.

Bravo to all three of you.

Bruce

[Landsturm]

ink 2007, French soldiers attending to a front funeral on the Western Front.

[susanhemmings]

Landsturm, That is a lovely ink sketch. It's very moving the way the wounded soldier is holding that cross, as if to plant it in the ground would be to seal the fate of the person buried. Portrayed beautifully.

Susan.