ANZUK FORCE

Tags

28th ANZUK Brigade, 8th Division 2nd AIF, ANZUK Force, Australian bush poetry, Australian poet, Fall of Singapore, poem, poetry, Singapore

𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄

They come once more to Singapore,
To deter those who would wage war.
The locals see their garb and guns
Have little changed — these are the sons
Perhaps of those who were brought low;
But that was thirty years ago.

The Aussies, Kiwis, British boys,
Their distant Queen once more deploys,
As she plans to give up her best —
Retreat in order to the West.

Now fifty years have passed and most
Have left — have given up the ghost.
Their shoulder flashes slowly fade —
Like memories of their brigade.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Slain

Tags

Ancient Greek Mythology, Australian poet, Homer, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, The Iliad, The Trojan Plain, The Trojan War, Troy

The Slain

In ancient times a certain poet wrote
A mighty poem of a dreadful war:
The corpses on the battlefield will bloat
Until their comrades take that ground once more.
The gashes that the spears and arrows tore
Are here described in detail — every kill;
The splattered brains, the lifeless eyes, the gore,
The clattering armour — all flow from his quill.
The flower of youth all bloodied, wrecked and still;
Their beauty lost upon the hallowed plain
That lies before the city on the hill.
A catalogue of courage, death, and pain,
Yet not a tome where war is glorified —
A tale of love — of men — and how they died.

— D.N. O’Brien

Someone Did Something

Tags

9/11, Australian poet, Formal poetry, Ilhan Omar, Islamic infiltration, islamic Terrorism, Islamization, poem, poetry, Political Correctness, Someone did something, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Twin Towers

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Did something happen on that fatal day?
Did someone do something? — apparently.
Are many much too scared to even say
Something was done by someone? — can this be?
Did not the whole world clearly hear and see
That something happened? — what? — a dreadful deed
Committed by a ruthless enemy?
Who was this someone then? Are all agreed
Upon this fiend’s identity? No need
For further proof? Of course it’s not required!
Mad men who love a mad fanatics’ creed
Did this. All sane men know the truth; they’re tired
Of those who would defend such evil scum —
Those who, within, beat on the traitor’s drum.

— D.N. O’Brien

’69

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Drought in Queensland, Formal poetry, Petrarchan sonnet, poem, poetry, Queensland dairy farms, sonnet, Vietnam War

‘69

The rains have come and washed away the dust.
The drought of ’68 is in the past.
The old man talks of selling-up at last —
Another drought like that and we’ll go bust.
Our worn-out ploughs are little more than rust.
The overdraft is climbing way too fast.
With falling prices for our milk forecast,
There’s little chance that we will earn a crust.

Dan’s back from Vietnam — he nearly died;
Was burning up — the Yanks packed him in ice.
War kills in different ways — the fever tried,
But some are not meant for the sacrifice.
He knows my thoughts, and so takes me aside —
Gives me his army boots — and his advice.

— D.N. O’Brien

Beersheba

Tags

4th Light Horse Brigade, AIF, Australian Light Horse, Australian Slouch hat, Beersheba, Beersheba Charge, Bush Poetry, German Officers, Negev Desert, Ottoman Empire, poem, poetry, The Battle of Beersheba, The Charge at Beersheba, Turkish soldiers, Turks, World War One

𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐛𝐚

Faint rays falling on the horses and the host,
And the Officers of Germany are dreaming of the coast.
Desert day is dawning, the defenders are dug in.
Slouch-hatted soldier scrapes the salt-beef from the tin.
Turk stokes the withered wood, spreads palms towards the fire,
And wonders why there are no mines, and where is the barbed wire?
On drags the dreary day and late grows the hour —
Before the sun begins to set, a cry from the tower:
“There are cavalry towards the east, so danger’s close at hand!”
But the Officers of Germany, the Turks don’t understand.
The Officers of Germany are tired of sweat and sand.
The Officers of Germany are in a foreign land.
An Officer of Germany screams at the Turks: “You see!
They are but mounted infantry — they are not cavalry!”
Eight hundred horsemen, mounted tall, that is the spotter’s count.
Eight hundred infantry, that’s all — and they will all dismount.
The Officers of Germany have fallen for the ruse;
The Officers in Germany will read the dreadful news.
Scream the German officers: “Men, now hold your fire!”
The Turks can see the plain, the rising dust, and no barbed wire.
Come on the lines of horsemen, and too late the Turkish sons
See that the riders won’t dismount — they’re underneath the guns.
Eight hundred riders make the charge and all of them stay mounted,
Except those who from their mounts fall, and thirty one are counted.
Slung on their backs their rifles, and with bayonets held on high,
They reach the Turkish trenches as the Turks shoot at the sky.
And suddenly the fighting is all over — as before,
This blasted land, the blood-soaked sand that knows the ways of war,
This poor Beersheba, once again, gives up her precious wells,
Remembering the pounding hooves, gun shots and bursting shells.
And many Turks that night they find a cold and dusty bed,
And slouch hats top the rifles of the riders who are dead.
The lucky Turks are led away into captivity,
As are those splendid men, the Officers of Germany.

— D.N. O’Brien

Beersheba Charge

The Yanks

Tags

Australian bush poetry, Australian poet, Australian soldiers in Vietnam, Australian traditional poetry, Fourth of July, poem, poetry, Vietnam War

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

{𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘯}

I’ll tell you here a story and I swear I will not lie.
It’s a story of a man we knew — to whom we’ve said goodbye:

Once a jungle scarred and blasted, overhead a baleful sky,
Where with whirring, doleful droning, did a lonely chopper fly
To a clearing where the man lay still — it took him by and by
To a place where they could save him, and I tell you that is why
While he lived for ever after on the fourth day of July
Would that digger quietly praise the Yanks who wouldn’t let him die.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Syrian Hill

Tags

2nd AIF, 7th Division 2nd AIF, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Hill 1054 Syria, poem, poetry, Syria, The Levant, Vichy French, Vichy French in Syria

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥

In the cruel Levant lies the Syrian hill,
And the men who hold it have strength and will.
And two of the men who would take the height,
Mere boys when they landed, now men who’ll fight
The French and their vassals, the Senegalese.
From the distant south — the Antipodes,
They are seen once more in an ancient land
Where the blood of their fathers, it stains the sand.
And soon will theirs flow on this rocky mound;
But now do they dig in the blasted ground.
And the shells fly near and the air it groans
As they shake the hill and the buried bones
Of the countless soldiers who here have died
For a sultan’s dream or a far king’s pride.
Now their bayonets fixed for the last mad rush
That will seal their fate or their dark foes crush.
One looks to his right and his mate looks back,
As the air explodes — then a shout:”Attack!”
One looks to his right and his mate lies there,
And glazed are his eyes and there’s blood in his hair.
But the charge is on and the scene’s a blur.
There are shouts and shells and the bullets whir.
At the Senegalese do their officers scream,
But it is the end of a mad French dream,
As the Frenchmen flee and the French flag falls.
And the Vichy French from their towering walls,
Now their last hope gone, fly surrender’s flag.
And upon the hill with a Frenchman’s rag,
With the tricolour is a bandage made
For a soldier wounded — his mate is laid
With the others who on that day had paid
With their bright young lives for a barren mound.
Now I think of them when I hear the sound
Of a bugle blown — of the boys who fell;
Of the wounded soldier I knew so well.

— D.N. O’Brien

{𝘐𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 2/25𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯 7𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 2𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘐𝘍 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘏𝘪𝘭𝘭 1054, 𝘚𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘢 8𝘵𝘩 𝘑𝘶𝘭𝘺 1941 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘕𝘰𝘦𝘭 𝘖’𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯 — 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 — 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘺 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 12𝘵𝘩 𝘑𝘶𝘭𝘺}

Collateral Damage

Tags

Australian poet, poem, poetry, Triolet, War with Iran

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

Our enemies will die if we wage war;
We can’t have that — think of their wives and kids!
War will result in carnage — blood and gore!
Our enemies will die if we wage war;
And we must love our enemies, therefore,
We’ll do whatever any tyrant bids.
Our enemies will die if we wage war;
We can’t have that — think of their wives and kids!

— D.N. O’Brien

Suffer the Little Children

Tags

Australian Jihadists, Australian poet, Children of Islamist terrorists, Formal poetry, ISIS, Islamic infiltration, Islamic State, Islamization, limerick, Limerick poem, Limerick poetry, Nieveta, poem, poetry

𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧

What chance that these little Jihadies,
(The offspring of murderous baddies)
Now helpless and small,
No danger at all,
Grow up to be just like their daddies.

— D.N. O’Brien

Terrorist’s kids to come home

Resurrection: Ertugrul

Tags

Diriliş: Ertuğrul, Ertugrul, Kayi tribe, Netflix shows, Oghuz Turk, Osman I, Petrarchan sonnet, President Erdogan, Resurrection - Ertugrul, Turkish TV shows, Turkmen

Resurrection: Ertugrul

Ertugrul bey, you are as strong as steel.
No blade can blunt or block your slashing sword.
You are of all the Turks the greatest lord,
And all the other beys at your feet kneel.
And should one not, your dagger’s edge he’ll feel
Cold on his throat — he’ll gather no reward
In Heaven when his blood is spilled, outpoured
From severed veins. His martyrdom you’ll steal.

But having sung your praises now I say:
Why are the Templar and Byzantine Knights
You fight, such awful swordsmen? Not a scratch
Your Alps receive while killing them. Oh pray
Tell me, is this your dream? One-sided fights?
In dreams the strongest foes we all outmatch.

— D.N. O’Brien

The Netflix TV series “Resurrection: Ertugrul”, or to give it its Turkish name: “Diriliş: Ertuğrul” is a very entertaining, if perhaps somewhat inaccurate (as far as we know) portrayal of the Oghuz Turk hero and leader, Ertugrul of the Kayi tribe. His tribe had been driven out of present Kazakhstan, or maybe present day Iran, in the time of his father, Suleyman Shah, either by the Mongols or other Turkmen tribes.

Ertugral was the father of Osman I, the founder of the Ottoman Empire, and we know that because Osman I had coins minted showing Ertugrul as his father — virtually nothing else is known about Ertugrul.

Turkish folk law however, paints a very heroic and colourful picture of Ertugrul and his Kayi tribe, and it seems the writers of the TV series (5 series to date, each of some 90 episodes) have drawn from this rich source (plus their copious imaginations) to produce an action-packed, often bloody, and always profoundly Islamic spectacle.

The show is not just about Ertugrul of course. In the first series he is just one of two young brothers, sons of Suleyman Shah, but as time goes on he becomes the central character. There are other major characters — I won’t go into that here as the plots can be very complex, but suffice to say, there are good and evil Turks, evil Mongolians and Christians (yes pretty much only evil), and of course beautiful women (Turks and Christians). The Islamic scholar and mystic, Ibn Arabi, drifts in and out, and seems to have a personal interest in Ertugrul and his tribe. His long lectures to enraptured audiences can get a little painful at times, but there is the FF button on the remote.

The basic story outline is that the Turks are moving further into Anatolia and coming into contact with the Byzantine Empire frontier and this is resulting in clashes with the Christians. Initially the clashes are with Templar Knights and they are characterized as very evil indeed, but later the fighting is with the knights of the Byzantine Empire. At the same time they are having to fight off the advancing Mongols to the north and east. It is an imaginative prelude to Osman I establishing his initially quite small Ottoman Empire in Anatolia — an empire which would spread far and wide in the centuries following his death.

The acting is excellent, (I’ve never seen actresses who are better at crying than these Turkish women), the fighting (mainly sword-fighting, and I’ll come to that later in more detail) scenes are bloody and skillful, and the acrobatics of the guys who’ve just received a killer chop to the throat or chest, spectacular — I didn’t realize that a sword-fighter who receives such a blow does 2 or 3 midair spins before landing (awkwardly) or that a fighter receiving an arrow in the chest flies 6 feet off the ground — the stunt men are brilliant. The main actors themselves seem to do their own stunts, and their horse-riding skills are quite remarkable.

Ertugrul is usually accompanied by a small but incredibly skilled and deadly (and lucky) group. There are about 10 or so in the group but I’ll only mention 2 here, as the others tend to change from time to time as they are either killed (rare) or move on to somewhere else. These two are Turgut, a big handsome Alp (Alp is Turkish for hero) who swings his battle axe with deadly results, and Bamsi, a strange sort of bumbling but good-natured fellow who takes great delight in removing numerous infidel heads with his two swords. He finishes up the chief Alp of the Kayi tribe strangely enough.

I’ve seen this group and even fewer beat off and kill scores of Christian Knights without any of them suffering so much as a minor flesh wound. Their fighting skills have to be seen to be believed, (Or not believed). The skills of the Christian Knights (apart from their commanders) are pitifully inadequate, despite hours and hours of practice. On top of that they wear white robes with a great big red cross emblazoned in the center — a handy aiming point for a Turk arrow or scimitar.

I’m presently up to episode 28 of the 4th series and have noticed a gradual but interesting change in one particular aspect of the show. Perhaps you guessed it — religion.

The show is always very pro Islam and there’s no doubt of course that it is propaganda, but with each new series the Islamic component increases. The shouts of “Allahu Akbar!” increase greatly in number and frequency, and “Inshallah” becomes the most common word uttered. The Christians meanwhile are becoming more and more evil and the (good) Muslims more saintly and admirable.

Still, I guess it was made mainly for a Turkish audience and that country has plenty of problems. Maybe this is more than just TV; perhaps it is an attempt to instill pride in the Turkish people as a whole through Islam. Maybe insulting the non Muslims in Turkey is not a problem, and I guess if you really believe in the writings of the Koran and Islam’s other holy books — if you really believe that Muhammad rode to the seven heavens on a winged horse, plus all of his other miracles, you’re not going to be too worried about the feelings of a few billion people outside of Turkey.

From all accounts the further east one goes in Turkey the more religious, the more fundamentalist the people are, and the faster they are reproducing. The western Turks are generally much more moderate apparently, more Western, and like the West not doing much in the way of breeding — I dare say they are worried about being swamped by their eastern cousins. On top of that they have the Kurds and what’s left of ISIS and the Syrians, plus their own internal tribalism to worry about.

But if this show is anything to go by, if these Turks can really handle being outnumbered 10 to 1 and still win, then we had better watch out if they decide to resurrect their Empire, their Caliphate! After all, Ertugrul often talks of conquering the whole world in the name of Islam.

That said, it’s still a damn fine show! — I’ll bet President Erdogan doesn’t miss an episode.

— D.N. O’Brien