The Return of the Heroes (In Honor of Veterans)

When late I sang sad was my voice,

Sad were the shows around me with deafening noises of hatred
and smoke of war;

In the midst of the conflict, the heroes, I stood,

Or pass’d with slow step through the wounded and dying.

 

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But now I sing not war,

Nor the measur’d march of soldiers, nor the tents of camps,

Nor the regiments hastily coming up deploying in line of battle;

No more the sad, unnatural shows of war.

 

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Ask’d room those flush’d immortal ranks, the first forth-stepping
armies?

Ask room alas the ghastly ranks, the armies dread that follow’d.

(Pass, pass, ye proud brigades, with your tramping sinewy legs,

With your shoulders young and strong, with your knapsacks and
your muskets;

How elate I stood and watch’d you, where starting off you
march’d.

Pass—then rattle drums again,

For an army heaves in sight, O another gathering army,

Swarming, trailing on the rear, O you dread accruing army,

O you regiments so piteous, with your mortal diarrhoea, with your
fever,

O my land’s maim’d darlings, with the plenteous bloody bandage
and the crutch,

Lo, your pallid army follows.)

Walt Whitman

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I Want To Be A Soldier. I Hate War. Books I’ve Known And Loved

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What is the allure of war? If there is no such thing as progress then war is just a morality play wrapped in different uniforms. If morality is relative then not only have we killed the gods but also heroism. Without heroism there is no nobility and war is just a series of species eliminating acts of survival of the fittest hardly worthy of novels. These are random  thoughts from the comfort of home while men and women on endless tours of duty die.

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