Suicide in the Trenches--a poem by Siegfried Sassoon

Suicide in the Trenches

Siegfried Sassoon

I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go.

I am sometimes asked if I have a favourite among the poems written by the war poets of the Great War. I think this one by Siegfried Sassoon ranks pretty high on my list. It's a simple yet powerful poem that has the courage to deal with what must have been a taboo subject at the time: that of soldiers who preferred to end their own life rather than fight in the terrible conditions of trench warfare.WIlfred Owen deals with the same subject in his poem "S.I.W." (which stands for "Self-Inflicted Wound"), but I think that Sassoon gets the message across much more clearly and starkly.

Sassoon tells the tale in few words of a young lad whose youthful cheer is cut short by the hell he endures in battle, leading to his death at his own hands. At the same time, the poet uses the opportunity to attack the crowds of people who stand and cheer as their "lads" go marching off to war. If they would only stop to think about it for a moment, they would realise how ridiculous this is. What have they got to be so happy about? What is there to cheer about, when these soldiers are marching off to certain death? They would do better to consider how lucky they are that they will not have to endure such a terrible outcome.

It's no accident that I chose to adapt the last line of the poem as the title of my book: I can think of no better description of war and what it really represents.