The Aftermath of War

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World War II was the most devastating war in history. 60 million civilian and military deaths. Porportionally, Poland suffered the most. As a more indirect consequence, the Western Allies and the Soviet Union's distrust of each other grew and eventually developed into the Cold War. The economies and governments of many countries were changed drastically, and the Allied economic giants turned their economy to repairing the damage. World War II also paved the way for later conflicts. One of the positive results was that democracy spread widely. But so did communism. Despite all the great economies and powers that came out of World War II, nothing could repair the loss of life.

In our new planes, with our new crews, we bombed
The ranges by the desert or the shore,
Fired at towed targets, waited for our scores-
And turned into replacements, and woke up
One morning, over England, operational.
It wasn't different: but if we died
It was not an accident but a mistake
(But an easy one for anyone to make).
We read out our mail and counted up our missions-
In bombers named for girls, we burned
The cities we had learned about in school-
Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among
The people we had killed and never seen.
When we lasted long enough they gave us medals.
When we died they said, "Our casualties werre low."
They said, "Here are the maps"; we burned the cities.

-Randall Jarrel from Losses





THE last sunbeam
Lightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath,
On the pavement here, and there beyond it is looking,
Down a new-made double grave.

Lo, the moon ascending,
Up from the east the silvery round moon,
Beautiful over the house-tops, ghastly, phantom moon,
Immense and silent moon.

I see a sad procession,
And I hear the sound of coming full-key'd bugles,
All the channels of the city streets they're flooding,
As with voices and with tears.

I hear the great drums pounding,
And the small drums steady whirring,
And every blow of the great convulsive drums,
Strikes me through and through.

For the son is brought with the father,
(In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell,
Two veterans son and father dropt together,
And the double grave awaits them.)

Now nearer blow the bugles,
And the drums strike more convulsive,
And the daylight o'er the pavement quite has faded,
And the strong dead-march enwraps me.

In the eastern sky up-buoying,
The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin'd,
('Tis some mother's large transparent face,
In heaven brighter growing.)

O strong dead-march you please me!
O moon immense with your silvery face you soothe me!
O my soldiers twain! O my veterans passing to burial!
What I have I also give you.

The moon gives you light,
And the bugles and the drums give you music,
And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,
My heart gives you love.

- Dirge for Two Veterans by Walt Whitman




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