The Angel of Mons

In the 60's I worked in a Repatriation Hospital, and got the chance to talk to a lot of WWI diggers. This must be an echo of those days...

He called for me from his hospital bed,

He needed a priest, and soon,

The old man lay in his disarray

In the cool of the afternoon,

I started to read the Viaticum,

His face was turned to the wall,

But then he stirred, and muttered one word

From the depths of his troubled soul.

 

'Mons', he muttered, and I was still

While he raised his gaze to mine,

I saw the struggle he fought within

Then I noticed his eyes a-shine,

'I was an Old Contemptible,'

He said with a trembling voice,

'I've been to the shores of Hell, old son,

If you thought you could give me a choice.'

 

'Now, I've never spoken of this before,

War is a terrible thing,

The Devil rides in the enemies eyes

While the bullets just rattle and zing.

I've walked through rivers of blood,' he said,

'I've lain in acres of pain,

At Mons, outnumbered by three to one

In the mist and the cleansing rain.'

 

'I killed so many, I must confess,

A rifleman born and bred

Full fifteen rounds each minute I loosed

At the sight of a bobbing head

Their field grey uniforms swarmed across,

We cut them off at the feet,

But then their artillery started up

And we knew we'd have to retreat.'

 

'Death was having a field day, son,

Taking us, one by one,

I didn't believe I was going to live

No more than my mates had done,

They lay in pools on the muddy ground

Their eyes a-stare, amazed,

The bullets that took them arrived unsung,

To herald an early grave.'

 

I patted his hand to quieten him,

I saw that the end was near,

The war he spoke of was over and done

But for him it was crystal clear,

I tried absolving his early sin

I held his trembling hands,

'I need to tell you the rest,' he croaked,

'The awe-ful Angel of Mons.'

 

'The Germans had us, the end was nigh,

We turned to defend at the last,

When up above us a shape was formed

With wings that glowed like glass,

A glowing angel with luminous wings

And it turned to the enemy,

The guns were silenced, the air was still

And the Germans turned to flee.'

 

Sweat broke out on the old man's brow,

He shivered and let out a sigh,

He'd told no-one of the things he'd seen

At Mons, in that August sky,

The lights were suddenly dimmed in there

Like a shadow of former wrongs,

And graceful wings folded over his head

As he died… the Angel of Mons.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Bubo]

The lights were suddenly dimmed in there
Like a shadow of former wrongs,
And graceful wings folded over his head
As he died� the Angel of Mons

Tragic, so many men faced with years of haunting memories.........war and its destruction, this piece very much reminded me of my daddy who fought in ww2, and the poem I wrote called "The Camouflaged Boy" for him..........we never really appreciate what these men gave, and how their lives changed, or the great loss of life during that time,
as always, you write a stunning piece, full of images and sorrow...........one the reader remembers a long time after the poem is over.

[The Ponderings of Bella]

Wow this poem is incredible! It gave me goose bumps I like the last stanza the best especially this last part��

The lights were suddenly dimmed in there
Like a shadow of former wrongs,
And graceful wings folded over his head
As he died� the Angel of Mons.

This has such a powerful ending!! Like a shadow of former wrongs��. Excellent!!! It seems you have captured the true essence of memories of war. Guilt is definitely a major theme in this poem �. I like how at the end you bring closure�.. you also captured death very well��. I like this poem very much! Well Done�� again! One question though�� I just want to be sure I understand �. Is Mons a place? If so where is it located??