Ewart Alan Mackintosh (1893-1917), MC, is a First World War Scottish poet who deserves to be much better known.

In this poem, one of his finest, he agonises about the responsibility he felt as an officer for his men. It was written as a tribute to Private D Sutherland , killed in action in the German trenches in May 16, 1916, and to others who died.

     IN MEMORIAM

So you were David’s father,

And he was you only son,

And the new-cut peats are rotting

And the work is left undone,

Because of an old man’s weeping,

Just an old man in pain,

For David, his son David,

That will not come again.

~

Oh, the letters he wrote you,

And I can see them still,

Not a word of the fighting

But just the sheep on the hill

And how you should get the crops in

Ere the year got stormier,

And the Bosches have got his body,

And I was his officer.

~

You were only David’s father,

But I had fifty sons

When we went up in the evening

Under the arch of the guns,

And we came back at twilight –

O God! I hear them call

To me for help and pity

That could not help at all.

~

Oh, never will I forget you,

My men that trusted me,

More my sons than your fathers’

For they could only see

The little helpless babies

And the young men in their pride.

They could not see you dying,

And hold you while they died.

~

Happy and young  and gallant,

They saw their first-born go,

But not the strong limbs broken

And the beautiful men brought low,

The piteous writhing bodies,

The screamed, ‘Don’t leave me, Sir,’

For they were only your fathers

But I was your officer.