GRGR(13) Patton Poem

[RICHARD_WILSON at udlp.com]

Through a Glass, Darkly 
George S. Patton, Jr. 
Through the travail of the ages, 
Midst the pomp and toil of war, 
Have I fought and strove and perished 
Countless times upon this star. 
In the form of many people 
In all panoplies of time 
Have I seen the luring vision 
Of the Victory Maid, sublime. 
I have battled for fresh mammoth, 
I have warred for pastures new, 
I have listed to the whispers 
When the race trek instinct grew. 
I have known the call to battle 
In each changeless changing shape 
>From the high souled voice of conscience 
To the beastly lust for rape. 
I have sinned and I have suffered, 
Played the hero and the knave; 
Fought for belly, shame, or country, 
And for each have found a grave. 
I cannot name my battles 
For the visions are not clear, 
Yet, I see the twisted faces 
And I feel the rending spear. 
Perhaps I stabbed our Savior 
In His sacred helpless side. 
Yet, I've called His name in blessing 
When after times I died. 
In the dimness of the shadows 
Where we hairy heathens warred, 
I can taste in thought the lifeblood; 
We used teeth before the sword. 
While in later clearer vision 
I can sense the coppery sweat, 
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery 
When our Phalanx, Cyrus met. 
Hear the rattle of the harness 
Where the Persian darts bounced clear, 
See their chariots wheel in panic 
>From the Hoplite's leveled spear. 
See the goal grow monthly longer, 
Reaching for the walls of Tyre. 
Hear the crash of tons of granite, 
Smell the quenchless eastern fire. 
Still more clearly as a Roman, 
Can I see the Legion close, 
As our third rank moved in forward 
And the short sword found our foes. 
Once again I feel the anguish 
Of that blistering treeless plain 
When the Parthian showered death bolts, 
And our discipline was in vain. 
I remember all the suffering 
Of those arrows in my neck. 
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage 
As I died upon my back. 
Once again I smell the heat sparks 
When my Flemish plate gave way 
And the lance ripped through my entrails 
As on Crecy's field I lay. 
In the windless, blinding stillness 
Of the glittering tropic sea 
I can see the bubbles rising 
Where we set the captives free. 
Midst the spume of half a tempest 
I have heard the bulwarks go 
When the crashing, point blank round shot 
Sent destruction to our foe. 
I have fought with gun and cutlass 
On the red and slippery deck 
With all Hell aflame within me 
And a rope around my neck. 
And still later as a General 
Have I galloped with Murat 
When we laughed at death and numbers 
Trusting in the Emperor's Star. 
Till at last our star faded, 
And we shouted to our doom 
Where the sunken road of Ohein 
Closed us in it's quivering gloom. 
So but now with Tanks a'clatter 
Have I waddled on the foe 
Belching death at twenty paces, 
By the star shell's ghastly glow. 
So as through a glass, and darkly 
The age long strife I see 
Where I fought in many guises, 
Many names, but always me. 
And I see not in my blindness 
What the objects were I wrought, 
But as God rules o'er our bickerings 
It was through His will I fought. 
So forever in the future, 
Shall I battle as of yore, 
Dying to be born a fighter, 
But to die again, once more.