The Officer Cadet, Me and Outpost Three!
Jugend Magazine 2nd December 1914 by A.H. v. V
The First World War was in many ways a writer’s war. The iconic stalemate on the western front, which would largely last from winter 1914 to autumn of 1918, produced some of best works of poetry and literature that the west has ever seen.
Many focus on the despondent alienation of writers like Wilfred Owen or Siegfried Sassoon, but little attention is ever paid to the war-inspired creativity of J.R.R Tolkien or Auer Waldborn. Artists too like W.J. Aylward, Hans Larwin, George Harding, Hans Prinz and Karl Alex Wilke have sought to leave their mark by attempting to visually capture the exhilarating, dark and often paradoxical nature of war.
War is an experience, that those from the safety of the home front could never truly hope to understand. Words and images can never perfectly convey what it is like to march for days on end, call a wet muddy trench home or suffer under a persistent artillery bombardment, in which the next shell could potentially constitute your demise.
George Harding for US War Department, American Wounded 1918 Marne.
It is certainly true that in war adventure soon gives way to feelings of futility. Nonetheless the solider carries on and does his duty. He does so not because he always hates what lies in front of him beyond no-mans land, but rather that he loves what lies behind him, home.
War comes and war goes. The Great War was not our first and certainly wasn’t as Woodrow Wilson called the “war to end all wars”.
Tolkien, an officer on the western front would go on later to write in the Lord of the Rings, speaking through the voice of Samwise Gamgee;
“How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end it is only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come and when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer”.
First World War Anzac Cavalry by Joseph Qiu Art
Despite of the treaty of Versailles and the subsequent Second World War, perhaps we can now today look back at these days of darkness from our position of light, appreciating the artistic and literary legacy that they inspired.
One such example is that of Auer Waldborn’s poem “Posten Nr. 3” (Outpost number 3), which first appeared in the Austrian illustrated magazine “Die Muskete” 30th December 1915, accompanied by Hans Prinz’s sketch. Both poem and sketch are based on an iconic photo of an Austrian sentry overlooking the Sesto Dolomites on the Italian-Austrian alpine frontline.
Die Muskete: Vienna 30th December 1915.
Hier Posten Nr. 3,
Der Fähnrich und wir zwei ….
Auf Schneebedeckten Spitzen,
Die nadelscharf in kaltes Blau gestellt,
Ruht letzten Tages goldig-rotes Licht.
In Nebeln unter uns versank die Welt
Und aus den Tälern kriechend kommt die Nacht.
Wir halten Wacht! ….
Hans Prinz First World War Postcard: Soldier On The Pass, 1916.
Here at outpost no. 3,
The officer cadet and us two ...
On snow-covered peaks, ...
Needle-sharp in cold blue,
Tranquil last days in golden-red light.
In the mists below us the world sank
And creeping up from the valleys comes the night.
We keep watch!…
Ein Dröhnen, das sich in den Wänden bricht,
Ein Heulen, das die Bahn zu Häupten zieht,
Sind fernen Seins zestörungslustig Lied
Vielleicht steht in den nebeln dort der Tod,
Der hundertmal die kalte Hand uns bot.. ..
Er Schreckt uns nicht!
Ein Ritter hält mit uns die Wacht: die Pflicht!
Hans Larwin (1873-1938) - Soldat und Tod ("Death and the Soldier") (1917)
A roar that breaks against the walls,
A howl that leaves a line on heads.
Far distant now is that song of destruction,
Yet perhaps out there in the cloudy mist there is death,
He offered us his cold hand a hundred times.
He frightens us not!
For a knight keeps watch with us, his name: Duty
Austrian sentinel overlooking the Sesto Dolomites on the Italaian-Austrian frontlines
Und tausend gläubge Augen dort im Dunkel Schauen
Vertrauensvoll zu uns empor.
Habt nur Vertrauen!
Wir harren aus auf windumbrauster Wacht,
Wir trotzen Not und Tod, Gefahr und nacht,
Der fähnrich und mir zwei
Auf Posten Drei!
Auer Waldborn
And a thousand believing eyes are out there in darkness watching
The look up to us Trustingly.
You have but trust!
We wait on as the wind blows over our watch,
We defy hardship and death, danger and night,
The officer cadet and me,
us two,
Out on outpost Three!
Auer Waldborn
Die Muskete: Vienna 20th January 1916.
Obviously not every solider was a poet or artist. Often there was little or no time to write home, not to mind publish.
Writing was however one of the best ways to keep up morale on the front line. As the war became static and bureaucratisation of war increased, so too did military logistics. Soldiers were able to get a copy of yesterdays newspaper and send and receive letters every week.
These letters most often contained valuable intelligence that if intercepted could be beneficial to the enemy. Other times they contained details that would expose the terrible conditions that the soldiers were exposed to and would therefore decrease the war support of the home front.
As a result they were nearly always censored. This involved a superior officer or dedicated bureaucrat reading through every letter and redacting any sensitive material. This however was only really necessary for outgoing mail.
Die Muskete: Vienna, 24th February 1916.
At times soldiers wouldn’t write back and with the young average age of frontline soldiers many young women sought to marry their sweet-hearts before they departed for the front.
This common experience of farewell and subsequent absence is captured well by artists like Karl Alex Wilke. In his work “ultimatum” we see a young women and her friend enjoying their luxurious lifestyle on the Homefront in Vienna, all the while her love is away on the cold and windy front line. She sits there in a cafe no doubt complaining to her empathising friend, as we see get a glimpse through the window, of his plight in the winter elements.
In the accompanying caption we read the text of her lugubrious, almost comically bitter, letter:
Ich schrieb Dir dreimal und hab' noch kein Schreiben von Dir erhalten. Warum schreibst Du mir nicht? Wenn Du mir nicht schreiben willst, so schriebe mir nicht, brauchst mir nicht zu schreiben. Aber schreibe mir, daß Du mir nicht schreibst, damit ich weiß, Du schreibst mir nicht. Ich schriebe Dir dann auch nicht mehr.
Deine Gusti.
I wrote you three times and have not yet received a letter from you. Why don't you write me? If you do not want to write me, do not write me, you do not need to write to me. But write me that you do not want to write to me, so that I know that you are not writing to me. Then I won't write you anymore either.
Your beloved.
Faced with a decision between wind, snow, bullets and artillery or his “Gusti”, the choice might not be so simple.
Niall Buckley,
From a cold and windy Irish August 2020.