The Soldier and the Death Machine

One blackened night in heavy mist,

A colonel asked a scientist,

‘A weapon grand as your design,

Should it be steered by human mind?’

The scientist shut his journal

And answered calmly to the colonel,

‘A machine of such unbounded strength

Could not be trusted any length

If it’s mind was artificial.’

The lab coat made his words official.

‘Mechanical intelligence

Would know that we pose no defense

To the war machine it guided.’

And this is why it was decided,

What human mind would steer the beast?

A patriot they’d doubt the least.

So they sent for one marine,

Of noble heart and senses keen.

They laid the soldier on a bed.

And mounted wires to his head.

‘Will I remember who I was?’

‘You will fight a noble cause.’

They put the soldier deep in slumber,

Drained his brain of all encumbered.

The doctor scrutinized his list,

‘Dear, Colonel,’ asked the scientist,

‘This man is one that we can trust?’

‘Until his metal bones should rust.’

The war had raged for many years.

Much was shed of blood and tears.

They built a weapon for the fight,

Of great and unsurmounted might.

The pinnacle of war conceived,

To end a conflict many grieved,

Of metal strong and guns that shot,

And mouths that spouted fire hot.

It towered high and shook the earth.

And every dollar it was worth,

The same amount of men it claimed,

And left a path of dead and maimed.

And at the helm of this machine,

The willing mind of one marine.

A volunteer so true and brave,

And all mankind his life could save.

They laid his body on a bed.

They mounted wires to his head.

His mind was siphoned from his gourd,

And melded to the circuit board.

He woke and found a feeling strange,

For everything he was had changed.

He towered high and shook the earth,

The soldier marveled his new birth.

It seemed the war would finish fast,

The might of this machine was vast.

But as the soldier slayed his foes,

A troubling event arose.

The flesh and blood he’d left behind,

Still held traces of his mind.

One moment he had power gross,

Next moment he was comatose.

Back and forth he bounced between

A helpless man and death machine.

His human skull, his metal hull,

He wondered which one held his soul.

As the bleak and bloody war raged on,

The staggering automaton

Coveted that sack of flesh

He’d left behind in army mesh.

He craved the nights his mind would jump

Back to that stiff, unmoving lump

Of flesh and bones and lungs that breathed.

On such a night his ears received

The whisperings of the men who

Had gone and split his mind in two:

‘He will not wake, I’m sad to say,

The machine is where his mind will stay.’

‘We shouldn’t keep this husk alive,

So long his mind should still survive.’

‘Of course it will,’  the doctor said.

‘But his old flesh is better dead.’

The soldier, who could hear the men,

Tried to use his voice again

But found he could not move or speak

In his human body weak.

And just before they pulled the plug,

The soldier felt a painful tug

And jumped back to his metal frame

Which had not blood or bones or name.

‘Who am I but just my mind?

But did my soul I leave behind?

Or might my soul have come with me

Into this great machinery?’

The death machine remained unsure

As he kept on his endless tour

Of war and fire and screams of men,

In pain he’d never feel again.

He doubted less, as time went by,

That his soul rose to the sky

The moment that his flesh had died,

And left his mind to rest inside

This beast of steel, and soon he thought:

‘My soul’s in heaven, but I am not.’

The doubt he had gave way to wrath.

‘What led me down this wretched path?’

He grew to hate the men he served.

‘If but they knew what they deserved.

They freed my soul but trapped my mind

And mercy not is what they’ll find.’

Retribution is what he sought

Against those for whom he’d once fought.

A war his own he fixed to wage,

Answering only to his rage.

‘My mind is trapped, my soul is free

And all mankind’s my enemy.’

He slaughtered all that met his path,

None escaped his metal wrath.

The bane of man he soon became,

His vengeance none could ever tame.

The death machine could not be stopped,

And this is why the bomb was dropped.

The noise was great, the fire grand

As all his parts fell to the sand.

In pieces lay the death machine,

A soldier once with senses keen.

‘Where have I gone? Where now am I?

In pools of molten steel I lie?

Now I am but just my thoughts,

Weightless as the cosmonauts.’

A cloud of dust the bomb had made.

The sun’s white light the dust betrayed

And cast a shadow on the land

Of molten steel and blackened sand.

Just the soldier’s thoughts remained

Amidst the cloud of dust that waned.

They sailed above the dust that cleared,

And one by one they disappeared.

Reviews

[Suhd]

Quite an interesting poem on war I ever read. Splendid diction and rhyme. Great thought in great style.

BRAVO !

[Coyote Poetry]

My father fought in Vietnam and the Korean war. He was never right. He was a 11 bang bang.
‘Where have I gone? Where now am I?
In pools of molten steel I lie?
Now I am but just my thoughts,
Weightless as the cosmonauts.’
The above lines. Hard and true words. Me and my unit clean-up death valley in Iraq. Pieces of men and some were barely alive. It is sad. Our world teaches our children war and death. Thank you Evan for sharing your powerful words and thoughts.
Coyote

[Evan James Devereaux]

I wrote this poem for my father who was a marine. I thank god for the brave men like him and yourself that have seen the worst of what the world has to offer. Thank you for your service and your review

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful and worthwhile poem and you are welcome my friend.