Mavi Boncuk |
To the generations born before the internet, Sir Alan Patrick Herbert CH was an English humorist, novelist, playwright and law reform activist. He was an independent Member of Parliament for Oxford University for 15 years, five of which he combined with service in the Royal Navy. His easy and engaging poems were published in Punch magazine for more than 60 years until his death in 1971.
On May 27, 1915, the Hawke Battalion landed at Gallipoli, a month after the original landings. It established its camp a short distance inland from the beaches at Cape Helles. The British position was already hot, dusty and overcrowded. A week later, the battalion suffered heavy casualties during the Third Battle of Krithia. Herbert survived, but was evacuated sick at the end of July. In summer 1916, he rejoined his battalion in France and was badly wounded at Gavrelle outside Arras in April 1917 and remained in Britain for the rest of the war. SOURCE
The Bathe
Come friend and swim. We may be better then,
But here the dust blows ever in the eyes
And wrangling round are the weary fevered men,
Forever made with flies.
I cannot sleep, nor even long lie still,
And you have read your April paper twice;
To-morrow we must stagger up the hill
To man a trench and live among the lice.
But yonder, where the Indians have their goats,
There is a rock stands sheer above the blue,
Where one may sit and count the bustling boats
And breathe the cool air through;
May find it still is good to be alive,
May look across and see the Trojan shore
Twinkling and warm, may strip, and stretch, and dive.
And for a space forget about the war.
Then will we sit and talk of happy things,
Home and 'the high' and some far fighting friend,
And gather strength for what the morrow brings,
For that may be the end.
It may be we shall never swim again,
Never be clean and comely to the sight,
May rot untombed and stink with all the slain.
Come, then, and swim. Come and be clean to-night.