Gerrit Engelke
Rise up! Out of trenches, muddy holes, bunkers, quarries!
Up out of mud and fire, chalk dust, stench of bodies!
Off with your steel helmets! Throw your rifles away!
Enough of this murderous enmity!
Do you love a woman? So do I.
And have you a mother? A mother bore me.
What about your child? I too love children.
And the houses reek of cursing, praying, weeping.
Were you at ruined Ypres? I was there too.
At stricken Mihiel? I was opposite you.
I was there at Dixmuide, surrounded by floods,
At hellish Verdun, in the smoke and the crowds;
Freezing, demoralised, in the snow,
At the corpse-ridden Somme I was opposite you.
I was facing you everywhere, but you did not know it!
Body is piled on body. Poet kills poet.
I was a soldier. I did my job.
Thirsty, sick, yawning, on the march or on guard,
Surrounded by death and missing home –
And you – were your feelings so unlike mine?
Tear open your tunic! Let’s see your bare skin;
I know that old scar from 1915,
And there on your forehead the stitched-up gash.
But so you won’t think my pain is less,
I open my shirt, here’s my discoloured arm!
Aren’t we proud of our wounds, your wounds and mine?
You did not give better blood or greater force,
And the same churned-up sand drank our vital juice.
Did your brother die in the blast of that shell?
Did your uncle or your classmate fall?
Does not your bearded father lie in his grave?
Hermann and Fritz, my cousins, bled to death.
And my young, fair-haired friend, always helpful and good,
His home is still waiting, and his bed.
His mother has waited since 1916,
Where is his cross and his grave?
Frenchmen,
Whether from Bordeaux, Brest, Garonne;
Ukrainian, Turk, Serb, Austrian;
I appeal to all soldiers of the Great War –
American, Russian, Britisher –
You were brave men. Now throw away national pride.
The green sea is rising. Just take my hand.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem, in its raw energy and impassioned tone, serves as a call for unity and a fierce plea for peace amidst the horrific absurdity of war. It speaks directly to the shared humanity of soldiers from all sides, urging them to recognize their common experiences, their common pain, and their common sacrifices, despite the labels of nationality that have been imposed on them by the machinery of war.
From the very beginning, the speaker demands that soldiers “Rise up!” — not just from the trenches, but from the brutality of war itself. The imagery of being trapped in “muddy holes, bunkers, quarries” invokes the physical and emotional weight of war, with its filth, fear, and constant death. There’s an almost frantic urgency in this call to arms — not to continue the fighting, but to put an end to it. The line “Off with your steel helmets! Throw your rifles away!” is a powerful symbolic gesture of disarmament, of letting go of the weapons that have defined their identities as soldiers. The speaker wants to free them from the “murderous enmity” that has driven them to kill one another.
The next few stanzas are perhaps the most human and vulnerable in the poem, as the speaker directly appeals to the soldiers’ personal lives, making the connections between them clearer. “Do you love a woman? So do I.” This question, simple yet profound, lays the foundation for the universal experience that binds all people together. The speaker continues with a litany of shared experiences: love for a mother, for a child, for the same human emotions. He asks, “What about your child? I too love children,” further drawing attention to the innocent lives caught in the crossfire, the ones who suffer because of the conflicts fought by men.
The speaker then references specific battles — Ypres, Mihiel, Verdun, the Somme — places where soldiers on opposite sides fought, suffered, and died, often unaware of the humanity of their enemies. “I was opposite you. I was there too.” The speaker not only acknowledges the shared suffering of soldiers on both sides, but also highlights the bitter irony: despite the fact that these men have shared the same horrors, they’ve been divided by borders and flags. The idea of “poet kills poet” is a profound and tragic reflection on the loss of life, talent, and humanity in the name of war. The poet recognizes that all the soldiers, regardless of nation, are victims of the same brutal system — and that the true enemy is not the man across the trench, but the war itself.
The speaker continues with a personal, almost intimate appeal to his adversary: “Tear open your tunic! Let’s see your bare skin.” Here, the poem becomes one of mutual vulnerability, as the speaker urges the other soldier to recognize that their bodies bear the same scars, the same suffering. These physical wounds, however, are not the only things that connect them. The wounds of the mind and spirit are just as real, and perhaps more enduring. “Aren’t we proud of our wounds, your wounds and mine?” This line, while somewhat ironic, underscores the absurd pride that comes with surviving the war, and the sad fact that the very injuries that should be cause for grief are instead worn as marks of honor.
In the subsequent stanzas, the speaker makes an appeal to the common fate shared by all soldiers. The “churned-up sand” where blood is spilled, the “vital juice” that nourishes the earth, is the same for all soldiers, no matter their nationality. “Did your brother die in the blast of that shell? / Did your uncle or your classmate fall?” These questions highlight the familial and personal loss felt on all sides. The specific mention of the speaker’s own loved ones — Hermann and Fritz, his cousins who bled to death — brings the reality of war into sharp focus. These are not just faceless soldiers dying on the battlefield; they are brothers, cousins, friends, loved ones.
In the final call to “all soldiers of the Great War,” the speaker once again transcends national lines. He calls out to the French, the Russian, the American, the Britisher, appealing to the soldiers’ shared bravery and humanity. The appeal is not to national pride, but to the collective grief and sacrifice that all soldiers have experienced. The phrase “The green sea is rising” could be seen as a metaphor for the rising tide of peace, of the end of war. And in this image, the speaker offers a hand, asking the soldiers to join him in rejecting the division of nations, and to embrace their shared humanity. The invitation is simple and profound: “Just take my hand.”
In this poem, the speaker’s voice is one of rage, sorrow, and hope. There’s an urgency to the message: that soldiers, regardless of the side they fight for, must recognize that they are all in the same battle. The true enemy is the war itself, the forces that dehumanize them, that turn them into tools of destruction rather than agents of life. The speaker’s plea for peace is not a passive wish, but a powerful demand for action. The poem forces the reader to confront the futility of war, and the way in which it destroys the lives of all involved. The appeal for solidarity, for shared recognition of suffering, serves as both a catharsis and a call to arms — not to fight with weapons, but to fight for peace and understanding.
The poem’s strength lies in its visceral, unflinching portrayal of war’s human cost, while also offering a vision of hope and unity in the face of destruction. The speaker’s insistence on shared humanity — despite the boundaries drawn by nations, flags, and armies — is a reminder that the ties that bind us are stronger than those that divide us. The final image, of soldiers throwing away national pride and reaching out to one another, is a poignant vision of what might be, if only the world could hear the call.