Wilfred Owen

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.

Summary

Dulce et Decorum est is a fair but somewhat fair assessment of the cruelty of war. The poet wrote this poem after he fought in the trenches of Northern France in World War I. The soldiers appear to be in a dreamy state as they march slowly, shell-shocked by the traumas of war and losing touch with their own senses. He relives the graphic details of being caught in the deadly gases of chemical warfare and watching one of his fellow soldiers unable to fit the gas helmet on in time. This soldier stumbles, yells, and screams as he suffers a slow painful death. He chokes on the cruel toxic gas. This vivid description of the dying man sticks with the persona and haunts his dreams. The traumatic experience of the dying man leaves the persona with the blunt conclusion that there is no true goodness or glory in sacrificing oneself for one’s country. The image of an innocent man needlessly killed in his country’s conflict drives the persona to rebuke the cliched saying: ‘dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.’ He no longer believes that children should search for the glory of fighting of patriotism because the result is a shameful falsehood that death on the battlefield is ‘sweet.’ Owen openly criticizes the results of war, and sincerely concludes the gruesome death of war is not sweet. He also notes that these innocent lives that are lost in such traumatic ways do not reflect the joys of patriotic martyrdom.

Themes:

War,

Propaganda,

Patriotism,

Trauma and

Martyrdom.

Mood:

Pitiful

Sad

Tone

Critical and

Pitiful.

Analysis

“Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,”

The soldiers are slouched over, lacking force and energy as though burdened by a literal weight. The simile “like old beggars under sacks,” shows that the soldiers are weighed down with their heavy sacks like beggars who are unable to stand up straight due to old age. The soldiers are fatigued by the spoils of war.

“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.”

This line begins with an alliteration ‘knock kneed’ and continues with the description of the disfiguration of the soldiers. The poet suggests that the soldiers become disfigured because they are tired, and their bodies are weak from the harsh conditions and effects of war. Another simile is ‘coughing like hags’ which the poet uses to compare their dry, hacking coughing to that of an old woman (hag). Now, they turn their backs on the ‘haunting flares,’ suggests that the soldiers are leaving the battlefield. They are leaving behind the distressing explosions (flares) and gunshots. Finally, they can trek to their ‘distant rest’ away from the agonies of war.

“Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots, But limped on, blood-shod.”

The poet uses alliteration with the repetition of the ‘m’ sound: “men marched asleep.” This is often linked to the mindless humming of a person who is extremely tired or groggy. The drowsy way in which the men walked is reflected in the alliteration as well as the line. Their marching suggests that they are asleep and simply sleepwalking. The “Many [men] had lost their boots” is the euphemism for losing their feet in these explosions. Still, they limp forward ‘blood-shod.’ In this instance, shod means to be fit with a shoe (like a horse). Having no boots or perhaps missing a foot lead one to agree that their feet are instead covered with blood.

“All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots/ Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.”

The soldiers are exhausted and are losing their sense of touch, sight and even hearing as they are drunk with exhaustion and fatigue. Their reactions and senses become dulled by the tiresome battle on the frontlines. Some of the soldiers are even unable to hear the gas shells thrown out behind them.

“Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!/ An ecstasy of fumbling Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,”

The toxic gas and chemical warfare were used by countries during WWI. These spread quickly and the soldiers find it difficult to fit their gas masks over their heads to survive the gas attack. The poet uses ‘ecstasy of fumbling’ to communicate the frenzy the soldiers are in to try get their helmets on.

“But someone still was yelling out and stumbling/ And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.”

Not everyone can avoid breathing the harmful gas by slipping on their helmets. One soldier struggle as he tries to put on his helmet in the toxic fumes. He is yells, stumbles, and falters and this shows his distress and agony. The poet uses simile again here in ‘flound’ring like a man in fire’ to compare his struggling, stumbling, plunging movements to that of a man engulfed in flames.

“Dim through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.”

The poet uses vivid visual imagery to share the views of the persona. Despite the misty panes of the eyepiece his gas mask and the thick green tint of the gas surrounding them, he sees the struggling soldier as he stumbles like he is drowning under a green sea. The poet uses the simile ‘as under a green sea’ as he compares the thick green light around them to a green sea. Just as the sea is a thick body of water that engulfs a person who is submerged so too does the gas that surrounds them.

“In all my dreams before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.”

This graphic image seems to haunt the persona, as he speaks about it ‘in all [his] dreams.’ The persona is helpless. He is unable to assist this man dying before him with tears streaming down his face as a symptom of inhaling toxic gas. He is choking and drowning, and the poet paints a gloomy, disturbing image that reflects his critical view of war and its casualties.

“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”

In the final stanza, the poet reinforces his point. The gruesome image he shows in the previous stanza’s leads directly into the gloomy atmosphere he creates here. They throw the unfortunate man in a wagon, and the poet vividly describes his eyes with personification: ‘eyes writhing in his face.’ His eyes are writhing and moving randomly, in the same way a human twists and squirms, contorting their body in pain. The simile in ‘his hanging face like a devil’s sick of sin’ compares the unusual appearance of his face to that of a devil disgusted of its own evil.

“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”

The poet continues to describe the horrific state of the man. Blood gargles from his lungs, corrupted by froth from the poisonous chemicals which in the simile ‘obscene as cancer.’ The poet compares the obscenity and fatality of this blood emerging from his lungs to that of cancer. He describes it now with another simile, comparing the blood to the bitter, regurgitated, half-digested material cattle chew on. The sores on his tongue are incurable, and he is now victim despite his innocence.

“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.”

The poet ends his thoughts by noting that “my friend,” if you were able to experience those atrocities, the gruesome corruption of an innocent man’s lungs drowning in the sea of green toxic gas then you would not tell children “Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori” which translates: “It is sweet and fitting to die for the homeland.” The poet sees no true glory or pleasure in such a painful, agonizing death.