Wednesday, January 6, 2016

The smell of blood

The best-known poems of the First World War, such as those written by Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon, strongly protest the war as they describe the senseless horrors of battle.  However, among the voices that have been forgotten are the popular poems of the day that inflamed support for the war, poems that celebrated an increase in the violence so as to balance the scales of justice.  One such poem was written by Emile Cammaerts, a Belgian writer who lived in London. 

New Year’s Wishes to the German Army
(Voeux de Nouvel an á L’Armée Allemande)

I wish that every hour of life
May wound your heart.
I wish each step you take in strife
May burn your feet.
I wish that you may be both blind and deaf
Unto all lovely things,
That you may walk all day and night
Beneath a sky bereft of light,
Seeing no flowers in the fields,
Hearing no word, no bird’s sweet song
To mind you of the wives and children left
Alone at home so long.
I wish the soil—our country’s soil—
May open and become
A quicksand ‘neath your ranks,
And that the streams—our country’s streams—
May overflow their banks
And drown your hosts.
I wish your nights may poisoned be
By all our martyrs’ ghosts,
That you may neither watch nor sleep,
But ever breathe the smell of blood
By our Holy Innocents shed.
I wish the ruins of our homes
May crash above your head,
That your brain with anguish reel,
That doubt confound your rage,
That you may wander like lost beasts
Before the wild storm flying…

I wish that you may live to feel
All we have suffered of late,
So that God may spare you the punishment supreme—
His eternal vengeance and hate.

There is no moderation in Cammaerts’ poem as it urges total misery upon the German Army, every hour of their existence cursed, each marching step an agony, all song and beauty eradicated from their lives, with no reminders of love, family, or home left to comfort them. 

The speaker of the poem imagines a future in which the enemy’s soldiers are exiles, condemned to wander “like lost beasts/Before the wild storm flying” in a land of barren loneliness. As the men of the German Army are swallowed by quicksand, drowned in rivers, poisoned by ghosts, and buried in the collapse of the Belgian homes they occupy, German survivors are doomed to “ever breathe the smell of blood" shed by Belgian innocents. The poem desperately wishes the German Army to feel the same fear, suffering, and death as Belgians experienced when the Germans overran their country.

The poem's anti-German sentiment echoes the message of propagandist war posters of the time.  But in a strange way, this is also a poem of hope – hope that the Germans will suffer indescribable torments, but also hope that those torments will provoke German doubt about the rightness of their cause, doubts that will call into question the rage that motivates the German military onslaught.  The poem stops short of wishing eternal damnation on the German soldiers, but instead calls down calamity on their heads that may lead to their repentance -- and perhaps an end to the war.   

Cammaert's volume of World War I verse, Belgian Poems: Patriotic Songs and Other Poems, was written in French and translated into English by his British wife. The book’s preface states, “The proceeds of this first edition are to be devoted to the Belgian Soldiers’ Fund for the purchase of tobacco.”  In a curious footnote to history, Cammaerts’ grandson is Michael Morpurgo, the British Children’s Laureate and author of the novels War Horse and Private Peaceful. 
               
Emile Cammaerts
Michael Morpurgo







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