I knew A Bloke

A casual conversation of probably less than 4 minutes, but it "shook me to the core".

I knew  a bloke who rarely spoke,
A gentle kindly soul.
Then one day his words did flow
Through my heart they tore a hole.
His soft voice told a story so hard
It changed  my perception of war.
Another point of view from which
I hadn't considered  before.

He went to church his faith was strong
But I never heard him preach.
And how to help your fellow man
So much that he could teach
His home a refuge  open wide
If you need a place to dwell.
We were all aware  of his good deeds
But I never knew him well.

The first communion of our sons
Both were 10 years old.
Proud parents gathering afterwards
Was when his story told.
This man so proud of his only son,
He reflected way back when
He was a child of that same age,
Things were so different then.

We all had childhood heroes
Mine were  pilots of the sky.
The “Dam Busters”, what a movie
I watched those bombers fly.
I applauded the Allied victories
Like the thousand bomber raid.
Reeking havoc on the enemy,
A strategic impact made.

We were living in serenity
The peace of a tropical isle.
His memories overwhelming,
The story began with a smile.
He was born in nineteen thirty five,
By the tender age of ten
He had only ever known of war
Daily bombings happening then.

He spoke of air raid warnings
And in bunkers underground.
The constant pounding of the earth
So loud their screams were drowned.
They lived in different places
Each time a brand new start.
The reason being their last house
Had just been blown apart.

He spoke of  grief and sadness
And how his mother cried,
Each time they learned an uncle,
Or little cousin died.
Occasionally he went to school
And hung his bag up on the rack.
Each time another empty hook
A little child won't be back.

I was fighting back my tears by then
My eyes beginning to swell,
On learning that this gentle man
Had risen out of hell.
He played amid the ruin and rubble
And occasional body piece.
At ten he’d never considered
That war would ever cease.

Sometimes he skipped the shelters
To watch from a nearby hill.
Exploding bombs and tracer bullets
A horrid childhood thrill.
He bore witness to  the spectacle
Of bombers going down.
He watched the firestorm burn
Cremating his whole town.

And my hero bomber pilots,
How could they ever know
That a little boy named Helmut
Played in Dresden down below?
His words cut deep into my soul
They shook me to the core.
Surely no one truly believes
In victory from war.

Author's Note

A Story that I have wanted to tell for a long time. It thanks was to Baby Ricochet's brilliant write of "The London Blitz 12/29/1940" that finally inspired me to get of my arse and make it happen.

Reviews

[David Scott]

Even in a just fight, innocent lives are affected. Yet humanity does achieve a temporary reprieve when evil is cut out. Like an unpleasant surgery to remove a tumor. Hard to take and the body suffers, but the life is preserved. I agree war is sickening for all parties.
A worthy write and reminds my eye of another poet from Aussi land, David Lewis Padget.

[Keith]

Thank you so much for thoughtful review, yes the evil must be cut out, at least in WWII evil was easy to identify. I do feel most honoured that it might in some way remind you of David, I am a huge fan.

[AmandaN]

I agree with the other reviewers,amazing! This poem should be read in schools.

[Keith]

Thank you again Amanda. Helmut's words have been haunting me for about 20 years, I needed to share them.

[AmandaN]

I'm so glad you did!
I wish the world would learn from its mistakes :-(

[Tate Morgan]

I am aware of the dresden bombing.And the firestorm that ensued. As with all wars it depends which side you are on as to your perspective.However war is a obcene waste as i see it.

[Keith]

Yes, I agree. I must admit that hearing a different perspective made me question what I thought I knew.

[Tate Morgan]

I can imagine it did.But at the time the Germans had no trouble killing with impounity all that were not like themselves After finding the death camps where they burned and slaughtered like cattle It is hard to0 imagine them thinking they deserved mercy.

[shallimarRose]

Oh my gosh Keith.. I am so glad I chose this one to read.. I have another friend in England that writes of hardship and war stories.. I would like to share this with him if that is alright with you. He is not here yet but I am trying to persuade him to come here and post.. Have a wonderful evening.. shallimar

[Keith]

Thank you Shallimar, yes please share and I am honoured that you wish to pass it on. I am on the other side of the clock, just started work here (the customer thinks I am doing his work, writing computer code etc!)

[shallimarRose]

lol... Yes here it is 4:20 pm and I shall be fixing supper soon.. Interesting and fun to know and speak to so many from far away..

[Angi]

Keith, this piece gave me goosebumps. It brought to mind a piece of music that I heard in a high school Region Band Competition. My son participated in this competition. Another rival school played this piece and it brought the whole house to tears. It is called Symphony No. 1 (In Memoriam Dresden, 1945) - Daniel Bukvich
It is a chronicle of the events of the bombing on Dresden in music. Here is a link to a rendition of it I found on Youtube. You can hear the planes fly in, the panic and the bombs at the 5:15 mark in the video. http://youtu.be/lXeb-lrvsVo Angi~

[Keith]

Thanks Angi, struggling to type through the tears after watching that haunting piece. So well performrd by the kids. And thank for taking time to rr, always appreciated.

[Leslie Philibert]

Like this. And in war nobody wins. I went last year to Dresden, huge areas had to be rebuilt,the centre is now a large park, hardly anything remains for the pre war town. A pointless act, the town was packed with refugees, the war was over, Dresden was not important as an industrial centre.A good poem.

[Keith]

Thank you Leslie. Please scroll down (maybe 2nd page) to BabyR's comments. He added some disturbing insights to the Dresden bombing.

[lee von cleef]

After the war, not long, days, my Father a Marauder pilot,was asked to interview the Towns He bombed. Your poem Teams well with mine. Rose Red Rain in Arlington, If words can help us wake up, yours should help.

[Keith]

Thanks Lee, left my notes on your poem, great work.

[ron]

This is the part of war no one cares to know or just does not concider. It reminds me of a book I read called "A tourch to the enemy" (I think thats the title). Very well written and sadly it is the true face of war. I served for 20 years in the US Army and was allways ready to go if called. But I deep inside I wished that my training would never be needed.

[Keith]

I have since tracked Helmut down, he is 78 years old and actually doesn't remember me, just my other family members. He is still a man of few words. I apologized for any poetic license at I may have taken, but he just said 'No matter, near enough'.

[Aethereal]

This is one of those sad poems that must be written with the hope that people shall refrain from militarism as much as possible. Relatives on both sides of my family fought in the wars of the 20 nth Century, and I tried as much as possible not to mention Dresden, or Japanese bombings lest a tear would flow from their eyes. They found no joy in what they had to do. One of my relatives went down with his aircraft because he refused to jump until his entire crew was safe. He gave his life for his friends.

[Keith]

Thank you again Athereal. Appreciate your thoughtful review.

[Dr. Wood ?]

you did a fine job too....

[Keith]

Thank you Dr Wood. I appreciate you dropping in.