Eye-Deep in Hell in the Trenches of World War I

Exactly ninety years ago, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, the guns on the Western Front fell silent as Germany signed an armistice with the Allies and the War to End All Wars was over. The European powers signed an armistice followed by the Treaty of Versailles that was (in retrospect) going to set the stage for even bigger and bloodier war. The Great War inspired many poets and writers, but one particular poem (actually, a fraction of a poem) has always embodied for me the bitterness, rage and desperation of the times.

Below is an excerpt from Hugh Selwyn Mauberley by Ezra Pound. This is one of his works before his mind descended into madness party because of the war and the friends that he lost on the battlefield (hat tip to Sans Everything).

IV.
These fought, in any case,
And some believing, pro domo, in any case ...

Some quick to arm,
some for adventure,
some from fear of weakness,
some from fear of censure,
some for love of slaughter, in imagination,
learning later . . .
some in fear, learning love of slaughter;
Died some "pro patria, non dulce non et decor". .
walked eye-deep in hell
believing in old men's lies, then unbelieving
came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy;
usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.
Daring as never before, wastage as never before.
Young blood and high blood,
Fair cheeks, and fine bodies;
fortitude as never before
frankness as never before,
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies.

The Latin is reference to Horace: “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” (Sweet and proper is to die for your country).