TO MY BROTHER KILLED IN BATTLE

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Are you a peach tree or a beech tree?

A birch grove, a little ivy leaf?

I am looking for you, my brother, and I am looking

For the thing into which God has changed you.

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Is your soul bound to a form?

Is it a living one or inanimate?

I will love it as I have found it,

And even in stone, it is familiar to me.

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Is it a blade of grass, a lilac bloom?

I will ask the sun to make

Completely golden with its fire,

Each being which resembles yours.

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I will have compassion on the little beetle,

That struggles upwards out of your grave.

I will embrace the wood and the sand on it,

I will bless the bird that sings above it.

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But if you are a thought, and if in thinking it,

I might transcend earthly limits,

Then I want to immerse myself in it so deeply,

That I find you again in the Godhead.

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Wolfgang Eberhard Moeller. War Correspondent

Wiking Panzer Division.

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‘Battle doesn’t determine who is right. Only those who are left. We destroyed fascists, not fascism; men, not ideas. Our triumphs did not serve as evidence that democracy is best for the world any more than Soviet victories proved that communism is an ideal system for all mankind. Only through our peacetime efforts to abolish war and bring a larger measure of freedom and security to all peoples can we reveal to others that we are any better than our defeated opponents.’ – Peter Bowman, ‘Beach Red’

Mike Walsh books

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