Dulce et Decorum Est

'The old lie'

Dulce et decorum est pro partia mori. (It is sweet and right to die for your country.) Education from time immemorial has been stuffing the minds of the freshers with the pernicious ideals of jingoism. War in all its aspects always self-consuming but to come to understand it is a quantum leap. Wilfred owen shares his first-hand experience of participating in the world war, and there by brings out the real picture behind the painted masks!

The first stanza talks about the perilous and piteous conditions of the soldiers willingly/unwillingly participating in the wars. "Bent double" and "knock kneed" talks about the physical weight of ammunitions and provisions as well as the emotional vacuum created by constantly witnessing death. "Coughing like hags" discusses the polluted environment due to incessant bombarding. it also refers to the lethal mustard gas. The last line is of particular significance, "we trudged to our distant rest." All the soldiers having fought are all exhausted beyond limits and go to their comps for a night's repose which too is far away. Also many of them succumb to the injuries while all of them desired of just somehow being finished with the horrid life that they had to live day in and day out. Therefore it is not wrong to interpret the distant rest as death.

"Man marched asleep." The word asleep is of great import. It refers to the mechanicalness of the soldiers. In other words soldiers weren't conscious of their own selves nor were they allowed to think and/or act for themselves. Just a cop in the 'vice-city' they were programmed to kill. The word 'all' used thrice in the same stanza talks about the fact that no matter which army the soldiers belonged to, they all were equally sick with war.

"Gas! Quick boys!" An ecstasy of fumbling" The mustard gas used in world war chocked the individual, burnt him and pealed of his skin. The worst death that one could ever imagine resulted with the usage of this devious gas! To protect themselves of this poisonous gas all the soldiers were in frantically looking in time for their masks. In the midst of this chaos some or the other is bound to remain without a mask. The mournful description of that helpless dying man expecting someone to save him, shakes us from the boots! Can a man fall such low in his morals and have his sentiments atrophied to such an extent so as to not note the other at all?

The fourth stanza describes the situation of a dying soldier. "The froth corrupted lungs", "….as bitter as the cud…", "the writhing white eyes." A soldier on his death is the most perplexed person for he fought valiantly the whole of his life under the illusion of some glory or great adulation that he was to receive, but on the contrary he dies a death much congruous to that of an ant being crushed under the foot of men - totally unnoticed! The pain then crosses the physiological realm to a psychological one.

The poet uses the words "you" and "my friend" in the 4th and the 5th stanza respectively to involve us more deeply in the poem. the affections of a beloved and the words of a friend tend to strike one more easily than that of a mere stranger. As we get deeply connected with the poet's sentiment it becomes possible for us to discern from his perspective.

What do you thing the countries are? Mere pieces of lands, fragmented to ease with the administration. What do the flags represent? What are they except a piece of cloth painted in various shades of blue and black? What could a national anthem be other than a few notes of folk music? Why is that we have to get so identified with the trivia that we almost forget who we are and why we have come here? The absolute idiocy is displayed unabated when we rage wars against our brethren! Humans fighting humans for some fine spun ideals - a byproduct of the sullied mind! Just because some haughty officials sitting in the A.C chambers declare a war, should millions and millions of innocent people be killed? A person rejoicing, laughing heartily, living utterly in accordance to dame Nature is what Wilfred Owen is looking forward to. A world which cannot comprehend the word conspiracy, neither can it decipher the cryptic codes of malign hatred is the one where peace can prevail. A world where everyone joins hands and sings Hallelujah and dances under the 'common sun' is what should indeed be!