A Message to the Troops

[AYOUB]

Noah Cohen translated and adapted this poem from Brecht's,

"An die Deutschen Soldaten im Osten" ("To the German Soldiers in the East").

 

Noah explains the background for the poem and how Brecht might have written it today:

 

"The original was written in 1941. Germany had invaded Russia, and after an initial campaign

of rapid conquest and little resistance, summer turned winter, and the Russians rallied at

Moscow. Brecht had his poem read over Moscow radio so that the German soldiers would

hear it.

 

"I've turned winter to summer, ice-fields to deserts etc. Of course there are differences in

relative situation (thousands of German soldiers died just from the winter itself and the

long march to Moscow), but the parallel is mostly here: that the resistance of the people

of Fallujah now,like the resistance then, is what stands between the world and a fascist

military empire bent on global dominion. Perhaps I should stay closer to the original title

and make it "To the American Soldiers in the East."

 

 

 

1.

 

 

Brothers, if I were among you

On the eastern deserts, were one of you

One of the thousands

I'd be saying what you're saying: Surely

There must be a road leading home.

But, brothers, dear brothers

Under my helmet, under my skull

I would know what you know:

There is no more road leading home.

On the map on the wall of the schoolroom

The road to Fallujah is short

Like the pinky of the Commander-in-Chief.

But in the desert it's longer,

very long, too long.

The sandstorms won't last forever, only till the turn of the season.

But man too won't last forever. Till the turn of season

He will not last.

And so I must die, I know that.

In the coat of a robber I must die.

Must die in the shirt of an arsonist.

As one of the many, as one of the thousands

Hunted as robbers, beaten as arsonists.

 

 

2.

 

 

Brothers, if I were among you

If I marched with you over the desert

I'd be asking what you're asking: Why

Did I come to this place

Where there is no more road leading home?

Why did I put on the coat of a robber?

Why did I put on the shirt of an arsonist?

After all, it wasn't from hunger

And it wasn't from bloodlust.

Only because I was a henchman

And these were my orders

Did I set off for murder and arson.

And now must be hunted

And now must be beaten to death.

 

 

3.

 

 

Because I invaded a peaceful country

Of farmers and workers

Bulldozing their crops and their orchards

To plunder their shops and their oil-fields

Stopping the lessons in schools

And the sittings of councils

Now I must die like a rat

That the farmer has trapped.

 

 

4.

 

 

So that I will be cleansed from the face of the earth

Like leprosy. That an example be made for all time

Of what must be done with robbers and arsonists

And the henchmen of robbers and arsonists.

 

 

5.

 

 

So that our mothers will say they have no children.

So that our children will say they have no fathers.

So that there be mounds of earth that carry no markers.

 

 

6.

 

 

And I will never again

See the land that I came from

Not the forests or mountains

Not the oceans or prairies

Not the pine-woods or the vineyards.

Not in dawn-light, not at midday,

not at sunset.

Nor the cities

Or the city where I was born.

Not my workplace, or my room

Or my bed.

All this I will not see again.

And none who went with me

Will ever see this again.

I won't and you won't

Ever again

Hear the voices of wives and of mothers

Or the wind over the chimneys of our homeland

Or the joyful sounds of the city, or the bitter ones.

 

 

7.

 

 

Instead I will die

In the middle of my brief time

Unloved, unmissed

A tank's reckless driver.

Unlearned, save through the final lesson

Untried, save in murder

Unmissed, save from the slaughter.

And I will lie in the land I destroyed.

Men will breathe a sigh of relief

Over the ditch where I'm buried.

And what will be left of me?

A few pounds of meat, soon to be rotten.

A charred side of pork, hung from a bridge.

A stink that the wind carried off.

 

 

8.

 

 

Brothers, if I were among you

On the road back to Baghdad

From Baghdad back to nowhere

I'd be feeling what you're feeling:

I always knew

Under my helmet, under my skull

That bad is not good

That two times two is four

And that he will die

Who follows the blood-drenched bully

The blustering ***** in the Whitehouse

Who didn't know

That the road to Fallujah is long

Very long, too long

That summer in the desert is hot

Very hot, too hot

That the farmers and workers of an ancient civilization

Would defend their land and their cities

And we will all be wiped out:

 

 

9.

 

 

In the desert, behind our tank-turrets

In the streets and the houses

Along the pipelines, on the roadsides

By men, by women, by children

In the heat, in the night, in hunger.

We will all be wiped out

Today or tomorrow or the next day

You and I and the general, all

Who came to lay waste

To the work of men's hands.

 

 

10.

 

 

Because working the land isn't easy

Because it costs so much sweat to build a house

To fell the beams, to draw the plan

To stack the walls, to cover the roof.

Because it made one so tired

Because the hope was so great.