The Fragrance at Flanders

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Easter and Anzac kiss this year with death and life a prominent feature in each event.

A few weeks ago I had occasion to take a visitor to the Australian War Memorial. Death was often a welcome release from the horrors of the trenches of World War I and new-life never more deserving than for those that died this way. Reading some of the details of the battles gave pen to the following …

The Fragrance at Flanders

This was not scented Alps

where nothing but the daylight changes,

nor descending by the Starnberger See

after early exercise, strolling into                                         

the Hofgarten to drink coffee with friends

as unbridled talk merges

with the expanse of morning.

Nor was this a plunge

into a Bloomsbury morning

of Clarissa opening French windows

to the breath of a summer day. Nor a

blackbird singing in the daze of early light,

or the buying of flowers while thoughts distract

to the arrangement of a party.

At Flanders, in the half-born morning

body after body fell

indiscriminately into mud.

Each man glad to take their leave,

exuding a common stench

until it accumulated in a message

that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief moment

there was a lull in the fighting

as the men were buried.

And for once there was sensitivity

as if Christ walked out of dead flesh

to shake hands with both sides -

or perhaps just nature self-correcting.

© Richard Scutter 25 April 2011

Such interludes were common in other battles.

 At Anzac cove on the 19 May, (1915) the Turks made a massive attack to drive the Anzacs off the peninsula. The attacking troops suffered heavily, losing over 3000 dead before daylight. An armistice was arranged on 24 May to bury the Turkish dead rotting in no man’s land.

(Text taken from The Defence of Anzac – Australian War Memorial)

Published in the Anglican Holy Convenant Easter Day Bulletin - Jamison, Belconnen