Anonymous Chelsea Pensioner on War

I was privileged to talk with several Chelsea Pensioners at different times over three years. All were really interesting, their military service covering different periods including WW2, Korea, Palestine, and others, but the last time was the most memorable.

The old soldier had been a regular who had seen service in several campaigns as well as serving throughout the whole of World War 2. As I sat in the Mess chatting to him, several friends all male who were senior NCOs, asked to join us. After a few drinks everyone was relaxed and the stories started to flow. I let the guys ask the questions, happily sitting back and quietly taking my notes.

There were things he just wouldn't discuss, and very deftly changed the subject. Clearly an old hand at avoiding what was too painful, too horrific, or too private. 

One of the Seniors was waiting to be sent to the Gulf, and was quite keyed up about it. I don't need my notes to remember what our guest said before he finished his drink and left us for a nap.

'Don't be so eager to go and fight. There is nothing glorious waiting for you. Its bloody. scary and filthy. Anyone who says he's not scared is a liar or an idiot. War's all blood and piss. When the bullets start flying and men die, you'll see, all blood and piss.'

Shakespeare: Henry V

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

It yearns me not if men my garments wear;

Such outward things dwell not in my desires:

But if it be a sin to covet honour,

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour

As one man more, methinks, would share from me

For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart; his passport shall be made

And crowns for convoy put into his purse:

We would not die in that man's company

That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.

And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,

But he'll remember with advantages

What feats he did that day: then shall our names.

Familiar in his mouth as household words

Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

This story shall the good man teach his son;

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition:

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

We few.....we band of brothers

I've just watched episodes one and two of Band of Brothers, back to back. I happened upon the start of episode one while searching for something else, I cannot remember what now. 

When the fighting started, I was struck by the lack of that 'hoo-rah' extreme aggressive attitude that seems prevalent in modern American films about war, where, in order to 'win the day', the men (boys) are wound up into a state of  screaming, violent agitation. Band of Brothers  trying to keep a cool head under fire style of fighting was a startling contrast to the arrogant, macho-aggressive-gung-ho attitude depicted as modern warfare.

So many things jumped into my mind. Shakespeare's Henry V speech, where the series title comes from. Col. Tim Collins' 2003 eve-of-battle speeech to his men. The words of a Chelsea pensioner talking about war, forgetting I was there; the only woman and civilian at a table of half a dozen serving male soldiers.

None of them are about arrogance, superiority, or the glory of war. They are all about the ferocity of battle, the magnaminity of victory, the brotherhood of soldiering. As the body bags return from Iraq and Afghanistan, I feel these words are worth reading. So I'll post each of them.