The Pause

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I was in town this morning at 11:00 hrs. This gave rise to the following poem, I hope you like it.

The Pause

The siren wails,
Its caterwaul blankets the town
in the sound of yesteryear.
Then, at eleven sharp,
the dull thump of a canon
echoes through grey streets.
It bounces off granite facades,
sweeps over ancient cobbles
like an invisible broom
it clears the clatter and hubbub
of everyday life.
An eerie silence descends
as the metropolis stills.
People stop to reflect,
heads bowed,
thoughts, private.
The brief interlude ends
As the "All Clear" sounds,
Heroes remembered,
thanked,
as we, the free,
resume our busy lives.

John Carré Buchanan
11 November 2014

Treaties (1914)

Image Source: Brooklyn Eagle in July 1914

Today marks 100 years since Great Britain declared war on Germany.

'The Great War', sparked by the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, was perhaps the inevitable outcome of a series of alliances and treaties.

The war claimed approximately sixteen million lives, and a further twenty million were wounded. It also set in motion events that would change the social and political landscape of Great Britain for ever. Sadly despite being called 'the war to end all wars' human kind does not appear to have learned it's lessons.

Treaties (1914)

Princip fired twice
and the couple died.
Tempers flared,
war declared,
treaties, alliances kicked in,
allies fell in.
Men fell in,
to the mud,
the gore,
the war supposed to end all war.
At home;
women stepped up.
Land tilled,
bombs filled
and on the fronts
their loved ones - killed.
In a war supposed to end all war.

John Carré Buchanan
03 August 2014

D-Day ~ Ode to Heroes

Today marks the 70th anniversary of D-day (6th June 1944). The day on which Allied troops landed by air and sea as part of Operation NEPTUNE which was the landing phase of the broader invasion of Normandy known as Operation OVERLOARD.

Of the 160,000 troops who crossed the English Channel on D-Day, approximately 12,000 were reported as casualties with 4,400 confirmed dead.

Most of these men would baulk at being called heroes. In my opinion these men, who despite all odds delivered troops, took bridges and secured the drop-zones and beach-heads that day, are all heroes.

“At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
we will remember them.”

D-Day – Ode to Heroes

Doors opened
commands flew
helmets surged forward
and the view cleared.
Darkness rushed past
and then a blast of air
tumbling…
Tumbling…
Check canopy,
kick out twists,
steer away,
and the ground rushed up
thud, roll, release, RV,
then push forward.
Capture, destroy,
clear drop zones,
gliders disgorged
as the push continued.
Capture, destroy,
bridges over Douve, Caen, Orne, Dives,
the battery at Merville
as their comrades fell
they pushed forward.

The ramp lowered
commands flew
helmets surged forward
the view cleared
sand, water, wire, smoke, bodies
stretching….
Stretching….
Push forward
into chest deep, cold water.
So cold.
Heavy battle dress; sodden
dragged down
stumbled forward
friends all around
with grim faces
over the hornet buzz of bullets
the crump of artillery and bombs
came the skirl of bagpipes playing
whilst sand laden water leaped
and men fell, torn apart
screams rent the air
and still they drove forward
on UTAH, OMAHA, GOLD, JUNO, and SWORD
they pushed on,
as comrades fell
they overcame the urge to hide
and ran, staggered and crawled forward

When their countries called
they stepped up
they paid an unimaginable price.
Some pay it still.
These men, Heroes all.
We will remember them.

John Carré Buchanan
05 June 2014

Remembrance

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Remembrance

Bugle sounds ‘Last Post’
A hushed nation remembers
Reveille, sleep on.

John Carré Buchanan
08 November 2013

Ode to Fallen Heroes

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Ode to Fallen Heroes

Their ranks did not sway
like rows of wheat.
They did all our nation asked
and then; gave more.

They that were so brave,
faced the onslaught,
like poppies in a storm;
resilient to the end.

We that survive them
owe a debt we cannot pay,
save to enjoy the freedoms;
each and every day.

If you see a scarlet flash;
on hedgerow, field, or path
pause a while, give thanks
and their memory will last.

John Carré Buchanan
23 October 2011

Taking a Stand

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Two days ago I discovered that the local Scouts were not going to attend the Remembrance Sunday parade this year. I was more than a little bit upset about this and not being one to let things slide, I took the Scout leaders to task and reminded them of the importance of Remembrance Sunday and the crucial role the Scouts play in our community.

Last night the Scouts were told that they would be parading on Sunday.

I’m sure some of you will be thinking; ‘well done John’, but there will also be those that disagree with what I did probably thinking something along the lines of ‘busy body, should leave people to get on with living their own lives’. Whichever camp you belong to I would encourage you to attend remembrance Sunday tomorrow.

The rest of this post lays out why I believe we should attend, a belief clearly held by John Bailey who wrote the poem with which I close the post.

Laurance Binyon famously wrote the poem ‘For the fallen’ the fourth verse of which is frequently used in Remembrance services, I will base my thoughts on this verse;

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Unfortunately what too many of us forget is that many of the soldiers and civilians, physically or mentally injured in war will grow old. Many of them bearing horrific mental and physical scars.

These people, their relatives and supporters, spend years living with the aftermath of war. Unfortunately, for many once the obvious physical injuries have been treated the support dries up, for all of these people the injured and those that support them, age will weary them.

All too often combatants are condemned, criticised in the cold light of day for decisions made by our Civilian Political Leadership who ordered our forces to war.

As if taking the blame for the decisions of others is not bad enough they are also condemned for decisions they make when they were operating under incredible pressures often when they are in fear of their lives or the lives of those they protect.

What most don’t consider is that often the severest condemnations dwell, hidden, in the minds of the service personnel themselves.

Next time you are enjoying the going down of the sun, or when you rise in the morning of a beautiful new day, Please give a thought not just to the fallen, but those that survived, and those who place themselves at risk on your behalf today.

The following poem, by John Bailey provides a more eloquent way of asking you to attend a remembrance day service near you;

Taking a Stand - John Bailey

I ask you to stand with me
For both the injured and the lost
I ask you to keep count with me
Of all the wars and what they cost
I ask you to be silent with me
Quietly grateful for our lot
As I expect you're as thankful as me
For the health and life we've got
I ask that you wish them well with me
All those still risking their all
And I ask that you remember with me
The names of those that fall
I expect that you are proud like me
Of this great nation of ours too
So enjoying all its freedoms like me
Support those upholding them for you
I hope that you are hopeful like me
That we'll soon bring an end to wars
So you'll have to stand no more with me
And mourning families no different from yours
'Til then be thankful you can stand with me
Thinking of those who now cannot
For standing here today with me
At least we show they're not forgot

John Carré Buchanan
10 November 2012

Have You Heard?

I was looking at my Facebook homepage today and saw a post that had been written by someone imagining what it must be like to be a military wife or husband when their partner is on tour. Whilst the sentiment was nice, I felt the poem had a lot to be desired, a view that, judging by the comments under it, was shared by a lot of other people.

This spurned me on to thinking about how I might address this difficult topic so I put my fingers to the keyboard and came up with the following poem;

Before you read it you should note that;

• In verse 1 ‘Op MINIMISE’ is the name of the practice of stopping deployed personnel contacting loved ones at home immediately after a major event has occurred in theatre. This is done in order to ensure that the authorities have time to tell the next of kin what has happened to their loved ones before the Jungle drums start beating.
• In verse 3 the word 'patch’ is the colloquial term for a military housing estate.

I would be most interested in your comments on this poem please.

Have You Heard?

When I dropped the kids at school
The talk was; “have you heard?”
They must be on Op MINIMISE
Because there’s been no word.

I had to do the shopping
the stocks were getting low.
I met Barbara in Tesco’s,
she asked; “Do you know?”

Back home the patch is quiet.
I crack on behind closed doors,
The radio in the background
As I do my household chores.

My mind is spinning painfully.
My emotions are red raw.
How I wish he was here with me,
not in some bloody war.

The phone’s shrill call disturbs me
My mind is suddenly blurred,
It’s Julie from down the road
She asks “Have you heard?”

“Jackie’s Smudge has been injured
He’s coming home today,
I’m going over to help her.”
I didn’t know what to say.

Relief floods in, for my Jack’s safe.
My heart leaps for joy;
But then its shattered; for young Smudge
is such a lovely boy.

It’s hard to be the partner
of service folk on tour.
When they’re away you’re left with
your own hell to endure.

You have to run a household
and tend to grieving kids
whilst guarding your own emotions
and missing them to bits.

John Carré Buchanan

20 March 2012

 

Pacing Plans

Remembrance Sunday is a very important day for me. Even before I became a Christian, I used to go to the memorial service and pay my respects. Nowadays I feel the need to go even more strongly than when I was serving.

This morning I took my son to the local service. As I was one of the few veterans attending we were asked to lay a wreath on behalf of the British Legion. Following the laying of the wreaths we walked a short distance to the church where there was a particularly touching service. In all I stood for about 25 minutes and walk about 400 metres on sticks but it turned out to be too much for me. I spent the afternoon taking things very easily, but all the while I could feel the tell tail signs of a flare up coming on. It finally hit hard at about 4 o’clock this afternoon and despite having taken all the meds and run through the techniques I use to manage such situations I am still sliding.

Fortunately, last Sunday I built the service into my week’s pacing plan and was careful to build in an expectation that the afternoon and tonight would be very difficult. I planned an afternoon of reading poetry and other activities which would minimise my discomfort. I also made sure that I let my family know what was likely to happen so that they would not be fussing around me, something which makes me feel guilty and depressed. In short I prepared myself and my support team physically and mentally for a difficult time.

I also decided that I would post the following poem in the late evening. The poem describes what it is like to have a flare up. It does not make comfortable reading, but I’m hoping that it will demonstrate to other pain sufferers that if you pace yourself and plan how you are going to deal with a flare up it is possible to achieve things you might not normally achieve.

I know this strategy doesn’t help on the occasions when you get caught out but the old Army saying known as the 7 P’s is worth remembering; Prior Preparation and Planning Prevent Piss Poor Performance.

Flare Up

The tormenting ache is obscured
replaced by searing agony.
I feel the flesh melt,
Imagine the blisters as they bubble,
blacken and crisp over.
The edges split and retract
to reveal red tissue below.
It blackens and the cycle starts again.

My mind tells me it’s not true,
burnt nerves can’t feel.
but this is no ordinary fire
no water can quench these flames.
Born deep within neural pathways
they burn as intense as
the a charcoal maker’s kiln
consuming all reason and sanity.

Bed covers lie thrown back
the soft linen had burnt;
as its folds crept like molten lava,
and scorched everything in their path.
The mind fights for control
looking to stem the flow
as if closing the sluice on a stream
but the gate valve is stuck.

Thoughts are marshalled,
challenged and found wanting.
Well-rehearsed counter points are delivered.
Slowly control is regained.
Unhelpful thoughts rally for a final push
but once again the mind delivers a ‘coup de grace’,
another battle is won
and the leg will bare weight today.

John Carré Buchanan
19th August 2011

Lest We Forget

Today we remember those who have lost their lives or been harmed in the service of their Nation. At 11 O’clock bugles will call ‘Last Post’ and a silence will fall. Two minutes later bugles will play ‘Rouse’ or ‘Reveille’ and the normal hubbub of life will return.

Those precious two minutes, repeated on Sunday, may be the only time in the whole year when most of the population actually thinks about what our service personnel have done in order to protect the freedoms we take for granted. That said here in Britain our armed forces are respected and even loved by the general public.

The British public who at times seem so indifferent to just about everything are rightfully proud of their Service Personnel. This was demonstrated time and again as they gathered in the High Street of Wootton Bassett (now Royal Wootton Bassett) to show their respect for repatriated service personnel. The public are also quick to jump to arms when they see the government failing to meet its obligations under the terms of the Military Covenant.

This respect comes from one underlying truth that despite not being the best equipped forces in the world The British Armed Forces are certainly the most highly regarded troops on the planet.

As I observe the silence at 11 O’clock I will hold my head up proudly and think of Service men and women past and present who have given their lives or been harmed in defence of the realm. I hope that you will join me.

Lest We Forget.

Remembrance

The bugle calls ‘Last Post’
Silence descends
Some heads bow in prayer
Others gaze into the distance.

The wind stirs leaves
Swirling them around
As if they’re the souls
Of the fallen - visiting.

In our minds
thoughts turn to those
who stood in harm’s way;
and met it.

Fallen heroes,
those buried with honour
at home and overseas
have names carved in stone.

Then there are the others;
those that did not die
but made it home with injuries
to body, mind or soul.

For all of them are changed
As a result of war
Either living with injuries
Or guilt or even what they saw.

When the Bugle calls ‘Rouse’
heads lift with tear in eye
The ‘grateful’ Nation reminded
Of the debt they owe and why.

John Carré Buchanan
10 November 2011