THE ROLL CALL... (My poem about a Crimean War painting by Lady Elizabeth Butler...)

 The Roll Call…

Post engagement, we have mustered,

Clustered in bitter weather, cursing the lying snow,

As somehow battle-sweat chills the itchy skin beneath sombre uniforms,

Too obvious against winter’s plain white.

I curse the loss of my bearskin, my wound encrusted,

Yet bound by linen.

My beard is unkempt, my hair tousled and blustered,

Whilst my eyes seem dazed, my demeanour flustered,

Post engagement and a bitter, harsh fight… 

I gaze through the lines at an officer,

His horse no longer rampant, proud, or prim

But foreleg lifted in almost tiresome fashion, 

Its emotionless rider resplendent, yet grim.

I see a fallen comrade sprawled forward, perhaps dead?

And an outstretched hand barely reaches him…

A Russian helmet lies aground incongruously,

Suggesting a hard won victory and fought perilously, 

Yet I despair, I feel weary and my recent memory is dim

Of a bayonet attack, of abject terror. And of dread…

The standards are raised, a flock of birds flies,

We muster and thus I respond to my name.

The Russian enemy in the distance flees,

 Another strategy in war’s unforgiving game…

Pete Ray

Words about Lady Elizabeth Butler’s painting, originally entitled ‘Calling The Roll After An Engagement, Crimea’, 

in 1874. 

This was not a scene after the battle at Inkerman, as once thought because that engagement was fought in fog and rain. Instead, snow lies about in this work.

Bayonet fighting was prevalent because of the damp conditions preventing the firing of the Minié rifles of the Grenadier Guards…