Desperate Glory

In Owen’s poem “Dulce Et Decorum Est”, he does not take the verb war very lightly. Reading each line of his poem paints a picture of what it would have been like to be the speaker during World War I, almost as if he is allowing us to sit on the side and see exactly what he is seeing. Every line more detailed than the last just brings emotion to the reader that they would have not otherwise felt. As for me, I would have not thought about what it would be like to watch someone die right in front of me, as he experienced in the poem. I feel like he writes it in a way so that the reader will feel these emotions and understand his point; It is not sweet and prosper to die for one’s country. Thinking so is a lie. Every solider that dies in battle of course is honored in one way or another. Their fellow soldiers will never forget them and everything they did, possibly even saved another person. However, there is nothing sweet about a soldier dying. It affects so many lives; every single person that knew the fallen soldier. It is hard for the rest of his team that is still on the battle field. It gives them a sense of lost hope because it is another man down. They do not know how much longer they will make it out there and they often wonder why it was not them instead. Once the news reaches back home, lives are destroyed emotionally. Having a loved one in battle already keeps the family on their seats, waiting by the phone, or waiting for a Chaplin to knock on the door. They never know if they are going to get a phone call that says, “Hey, hunny! I’m coming home!” or one that says, “We are sorry for your loss.” Although each of the men in battle, whether they make it back home or not, risk everything for the people back home, it is still not a sweet situation. Taking people’s lives to prove a point seems absolutely ridiculous. I do not know how someone could find satisfaction in looking an enemy in the eyes and killing them. Personally, I would not feel like I was doing the right thing whether everyone was telling me I was or not. Reading this poem by Owen fills me up with emotions, almost a hate for war. I honor the people that are overseas fighting for us, but there is nothing sweet about it. It’s a depressing unfortunate situation.