❤ Sharing Folkworthy Stuffs ❤
11 Comments | Vintage
Tear gas or mustard?
So was this permanent or a temporary blindness?
Here’s a horrible but human thought: The fact that they had their hands on one another’s shoulders must have been no small comfort. That you weren’t the only one who couldn’t see. If you’re the only one who’s been blinded, I imagine it’s far worse psychologically than if it happens to both you and your comrades.
Here’s a question, why don’t we see tear gas often used in modern battle fields. Does it come under chemical warfare conventions?
I think I saw this in Peter Jackson’s movie: They Shall Not Grow Old . Amazing footage restored to look & feel in real time. Disturbing content of course… it was the Great War. My grandfather fought. Unfortunately not ‘great’ enough to stop more.
Imagine you’re a new recruit and you and your company pass these poor lads, Jesus.
I have always wondered who took all these pics then.
These are British 55th (West Lancashire) Division troops, on 10 April 1918, during the battle of Battle of Estaires. So, almost certainly mustard gas.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots. Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.— Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
This footage is colourised in Peter Jackson’s new movie “They shall not grow old”
Watched it the other day and its really eye opening, everyone should definately watch it. Brilliant narration the whole way through from British veterans.