Dulce Et Decorum Est :: essays research papers

The irony in the poem Dulce it Decorum Est is that it is not sweet and fitting to die forones country when you boast actu anyy experienced war. Owen is describing how psychologicallyand physically exhausting W.W.I was for the soldiers that had to endure such a cruel ordeal andnot how patriotic and honorable it was . In the depression stanza Owen describes how the soldiers are trudging back to camp from battle.We see the soldiers, fatigued and wounded, returning to base camp Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we unlucky through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards are 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 tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.The way Owen describes the trudge back to camp allows the reviewer to open their minds to theevents that are occurring. This al lows them to see the cruel creation that the war was for thesoldiers. I believe Owens use of these images are aimed at discouraging the mere thought ofwar.In the second stanza Owen is describing a gas ardour on the soldiers as they are trudgingback to camp. Owen describes the soldiers fumbling to get their disguise fastened, all but one, alone soldier. He is struggling to get his mask on but doesnt get it fastened quick enough andsuffers from the full effects of deadly gas Gas Gas Quick boys-An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in timeBut someone still was yelling out and stumbling And floundring 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.The way Owen describes a consort watching as a lone soldier is struggling to get his maskfastened awakens the minds of the readers to see the psychological effect that this had on thesoldiers. Making the reader see that war is cruel and unjust. In t he third stanza Owen is describing the dead soldier. This allows the reader to view warin its full affectIn all my dreams, forrader 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 devils sick sinIf you could hear at every jolt, the blood