Winifred M. Letts
They put the screens around his bed;
a crumpled heap I saw him lie,
White counterpane and rough dark head,
those screens — they showed that he would die.
The put the screens about his bed;
We might not play the gramophone,
And so we played at cards instead
And left him dying there alone.
The covers on the screens are red,
The counterpanes are white and clean;
He might have lived and loved and wed
But now he’s done for at nineteen.
An ounce or more of Turkish lead,
He got his wounds at Sulva Bay
They’ve brought the Union Jack to spread
Upon him when he goes away.
He’ll want those three red screens no more,
Another man will get his bed,
We’ll make the row we did before
But — Jove! — I’m sorry that he’s dead.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem captures the cold, detached reality of war and its consequences, particularly focusing on the fleeting and often unnoticed sacrifice of young soldiers. The speaker’s perspective is one of stark indifference to the death of a fellow soldier, which highlights the grim routine of war and the emotional numbing that soldiers may experience in response to constant exposure to death.
The poem begins with the description of a soldier lying in a bed surrounded by screens, a visual cue that signals the inevitability of his death. The speaker observes this scene with a clinical eye, noting the “crumpled heap” of the soldier and the stark contrast of the “white counterpane” and the “rough dark head.” There’s a distance between the soldier and the observer; the soldier’s humanity is reduced to a figure in a bed, rather than a person with a life, aspirations, and stories. The physical details of the soldier’s condition are sharp and clear, yet there is no emotional depth in the speaker’s reflection, emphasizing the dehumanizing nature of war.
The repeated mention of the screens further underscores the separation between the dying soldier and the living. These screens are physical barriers that isolate the soldier from the others, just as the soldier’s impending death creates an emotional distance. The soldiers’ reaction to the death is revealing: instead of mourning or reflecting on the tragedy, they simply “played at cards” and “left him dying there alone.” This creates a sharp contrast between the casual nature of the soldiers’ actions and the gravity of the death they are witnessing, further illustrating how war desensitizes those who fight in it.
As the poem progresses, the focus shifts to the soldier’s death itself, marked by the symbol of the Union Jack being draped over him. This symbol of national pride, which might ordinarily evoke feelings of honor, is now reduced to a simple marker of a body being prepared for burial. The mention of “Turkish lead” refers to the soldier’s injury at Gallipoli (Sulva Bay), but it’s treated with a kind of blunt finality. The soldier’s life is summarized in a few short lines: “He might have lived and loved and wed / But now he’s done for at nineteen.” The brevity of this reflection further emphasizes the loss of potential and the waste of young life in war, as the soldier’s future is abruptly snuffed out by a single, fatal wound.
The final stanzas offer a striking, almost jarring, conclusion. The red screens that surrounded the soldier’s bed become a metaphor for the meaningless cycle of death. “Another man will get his bed,” the speaker notes, suggesting that the death of one soldier is merely a momentary disruption in the ongoing reality of war. The soldiers, instead of contemplating the gravity of the loss, simply “make the row we did before.” The mention of being “sorry that he’s dead” is less an expression of sorrow than a passing acknowledgment that the soldier’s death has disrupted the routine, but it doesn’t prompt any deeper reflection or emotional response. This casualness is chilling, underscoring the way in which repeated exposure to death in war can erode empathy and make even the most tragic loss seem routine.
Ultimately, the poem is a harsh commentary on the dehumanization of soldiers in war. The speaker’s perspective, which is detached and almost callous, reflects the emotional toll that prolonged exposure to death can take on individuals. The soldier who dies in this poem is reduced to a nameless figure whose life and potential are briefly acknowledged before being discarded. His death is just another part of the endless cycle of war, and the soldiers who survive move on with little more than a fleeting sense of regret or loss. In this way, the poem explores the emotional desolation and numbness that war engenders, and the deep, tragic irony of how young lives are sacrificed in a conflict that often seems to care nothing for their individual worth.