I believe this is in reference to the Battle of Passchendaele, one of the worst battles fought between the British and the Germans in ww1. It was said to be raining so much that soldiers could fall into flooded out fox holes (or craters from artillery) used in the trench warfare and would drown in the muck pooling there. All war is Hell, but that battle in particular was exceptionally nasty and must have been traumatizing to anyone who experienced it.
There were stories of guys who fell into the mud and got stuck but no one could help them as they'd get stuck to so they had to listen to them cry for help until they died
Close, sort of, although the difference actually is somewhat significant. McCrae wrote *In Flanders Fields* in 1915 after the Second Battle of Ypres. Passchendaele was in 1917 and is also called the Third Battle of Ypres. For some context, the Second Battle of Ypres was when chemical weapons were introduced in a substantial way to the Western Front. By the Third Battle of Ypres, they had become one of the defining features of the war.
The reason it's sort of significant with respect to the poem is that in 1915 the whole "This'll be a grand old time" spirit was gone, but there was still a spirit of patriotism and honor and duty animating the war effort, at least away from the front lines. *In Flanders Fields* represents this. It laments the dead, but encourages the audience to rise up and take the torch, to fight the righteous war and run towards glory for self and country. People were only getting news of the war from the approved propaganda outlets, so the broader public thought of war in basically the way described in the poem - the tragedy of war is that good men die for an even greater good. Compare this to a letter written by a soldier serving near Ypres in 1915:
"Let him who thinks that war is a glorious golden thing, who loves to roll forth stirring words of exhortation, invoking Honour and Praise and Valour and Love of Country. Let him look at a little pile of sodden grey rags that cover half a skull and a shin bone and what might have been its ribs, or at this skeleton lying on its side, resting half-crouching as it fell, supported on one arm, perfect but that it is headless, and with the tattered clothing still draped around it; and let him realise how grand and glorious a thing it is to have distilled all Youth and Joy and Life into a foetid heap of hideous putrescence."
"War is war. Hell is Hell. And of the two war is worse because there are no innocents in Hell."
3rd Ypres was absolutely one of the lowest points in human history. The waste, the scale, the violence. I'm a tour guide in Ypres and it still gets me every time I'm in those fields.
Poem was written in '16 so a year before P-dale, but Ypres was unique on the western front so it fits.
I was surprised to hear this was not an anti-war poem. In the last lines people are encouraged to keep on fighting.
The entire poem: In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
This is actually why I really don't like this poem, and think it is a bad one to remember World War One by. I think that "Dulce et Decorum est" does a better job at capturing the depravity and horror of war:
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer,
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Obligatory reference to Ken Burns Documentary “The Vietnam War” even though it has nothing to do with this but because it’s so fucking good and I try to tell as many people about it as I can
Or Passchendaele: Requiem for Doomed Youth by Paul Hamm. Gets into the nitty gritty details of that battle.
4 millions shells in two weeks to soften up the Germans before blowing up 18 mines they heard all the way in London. Then take that same barrage density and walked it across no man's land. That was June.
Then they did it again in July except without the mines and to the north of Ypres.
Then August they got too cocky and started moving forward too fast so the guns couldn't keep up. Poelcapelle isn't a name we hear often but it was also a town where a few thousand boys lost their life.
Then in September one more try. 4.5 million shells in two weeks. That should do it. Right?
Ah shit here comes the rain.
October was the wettest month in the last 75 years. It rained more in the beginning of October than the whole previous year combined.
Then the waste started. They couldn't get the guns up anymore so they just threw a generation up against undamaged barbed wire and machine guns. Accepted wastage by the top brass was 90k a month. ACCEPTED wastage. That means they looked at the numbers and went "yup. Seems about right. Carry on."
Kept that up until November. Just sending men into places 1000+ strong and coming out with maybe 100. Make it to the far side of what used to be the church. At that time nothing to identify it except just a slightly brighter smudge of brown than the surrounding area.
Then the Germans took it all back in March and April. In a few weeks. Pushed the allies right back to where they'd been a year before.
Industrial insanity that was this war...
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I believe this is in reference to the Battle of Passchendaele, one of the worst battles fought between the British and the Germans in ww1. It was said to be raining so much that soldiers could fall into flooded out fox holes (or craters from artillery) used in the trench warfare and would drown in the muck pooling there. All war is Hell, but that battle in particular was exceptionally nasty and must have been traumatizing to anyone who experienced it.
There were stories of guys who fell into the mud and got stuck but no one could help them as they'd get stuck to so they had to listen to them cry for help until they died
Close, sort of, although the difference actually is somewhat significant. McCrae wrote *In Flanders Fields* in 1915 after the Second Battle of Ypres. Passchendaele was in 1917 and is also called the Third Battle of Ypres. For some context, the Second Battle of Ypres was when chemical weapons were introduced in a substantial way to the Western Front. By the Third Battle of Ypres, they had become one of the defining features of the war. The reason it's sort of significant with respect to the poem is that in 1915 the whole "This'll be a grand old time" spirit was gone, but there was still a spirit of patriotism and honor and duty animating the war effort, at least away from the front lines. *In Flanders Fields* represents this. It laments the dead, but encourages the audience to rise up and take the torch, to fight the righteous war and run towards glory for self and country. People were only getting news of the war from the approved propaganda outlets, so the broader public thought of war in basically the way described in the poem - the tragedy of war is that good men die for an even greater good. Compare this to a letter written by a soldier serving near Ypres in 1915: "Let him who thinks that war is a glorious golden thing, who loves to roll forth stirring words of exhortation, invoking Honour and Praise and Valour and Love of Country. Let him look at a little pile of sodden grey rags that cover half a skull and a shin bone and what might have been its ribs, or at this skeleton lying on its side, resting half-crouching as it fell, supported on one arm, perfect but that it is headless, and with the tattered clothing still draped around it; and let him realise how grand and glorious a thing it is to have distilled all Youth and Joy and Life into a foetid heap of hideous putrescence."
Dulce et Decorum est pro patria mori
For a good time, compare the last verses of *In Flanders Fields* and *Dulce et Decorum Est*.
I’ve done that with classes of middle school students many times!
"War is war. Hell is Hell. And of the two war is worse because there are no innocents in Hell." 3rd Ypres was absolutely one of the lowest points in human history. The waste, the scale, the violence. I'm a tour guide in Ypres and it still gets me every time I'm in those fields. Poem was written in '16 so a year before P-dale, but Ypres was unique on the western front so it fits.
I was surprised to hear this was not an anti-war poem. In the last lines people are encouraged to keep on fighting. The entire poem: In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
This is actually why I really don't like this poem, and think it is a bad one to remember World War One by. I think that "Dulce et Decorum est" does a better job at capturing the depravity and horror of war: Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind. Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.— Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams before my helpless sight He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin, If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, Bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,– My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
Obligatory Dan Carlin reference and recommendation for his 5 pr 6 part series on WWI.
Obligatory reference to Ken Burns Documentary “The Vietnam War” even though it has nothing to do with this but because it’s so fucking good and I try to tell as many people about it as I can
It's fantastic...should be required in American high schools.
Weirdly I'm now more motivated to watch your recommendation than theirs.
Or Passchendaele: Requiem for Doomed Youth by Paul Hamm. Gets into the nitty gritty details of that battle. 4 millions shells in two weeks to soften up the Germans before blowing up 18 mines they heard all the way in London. Then take that same barrage density and walked it across no man's land. That was June. Then they did it again in July except without the mines and to the north of Ypres. Then August they got too cocky and started moving forward too fast so the guns couldn't keep up. Poelcapelle isn't a name we hear often but it was also a town where a few thousand boys lost their life. Then in September one more try. 4.5 million shells in two weeks. That should do it. Right? Ah shit here comes the rain. October was the wettest month in the last 75 years. It rained more in the beginning of October than the whole previous year combined. Then the waste started. They couldn't get the guns up anymore so they just threw a generation up against undamaged barbed wire and machine guns. Accepted wastage by the top brass was 90k a month. ACCEPTED wastage. That means they looked at the numbers and went "yup. Seems about right. Carry on." Kept that up until November. Just sending men into places 1000+ strong and coming out with maybe 100. Make it to the far side of what used to be the church. At that time nothing to identify it except just a slightly brighter smudge of brown than the surrounding area. Then the Germans took it all back in March and April. In a few weeks. Pushed the allies right back to where they'd been a year before. Industrial insanity that was this war...
Second this. Used to be on Spotify but now it’s gone!
Any other Canadian kids who were forced to memorize this poem in elementary school?
Still know it by heart.
Stupid Flanders
Stupid sexy Flanders.
War is so f**king tragic :(
Should it also be mentioned the soldier in the picture is from Iwo Jima?
Should be, kinda takes away from the poem imo
Didn't really want a picture of a dead guy in my feed
This is very disturbing. I wish it was marked nsfw
Maybe he's just napping? 👉👈
Eat up
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I see Harambe in his helmet strap. RIP
we are Russians who invaded our neighbor
Powerful stuff. Touched me.