The Judas Goat

The Fields of Flanders

It has always amazed me ever since I first read about the First World War and the utter devastation on the Western Front.   1914 – 1918 saw hundreds of thousands of troops slaughtered during a war that should never have happened.   I have always wondered why the men ‘went over the top’ when ordered to do so knowing that there was little or no likelihood of them surviving the wrath of the Germans’ machine guns.

The senior commanding officers, safely tucked away in some far distant safe zone, issued the orders day after day knowing the disasters that went on and on.  The first day alone on the Somme resulted in the British forces suffering 57,470 casualties.

It was only when I read that anyone who refused to go, that it made some sort of sense to me.  Those who did refuse were immediately arrested for ‘desertion in the face of the enemy’ and summarily shot.   At one stage, more British soldiers were being shot for refusing than were being killed by the Germans.   I find it a disgrace…..

The Sergeants and young Lieutenants in charge of the troops were treated no differently.

I remembered that in the past, sheep being led into a slaughter-house (Abattoir) were preceded usually by a trained goat who would lead them in, then continue safely out the other side.   He was known as The Judas Goat – the Betrayer.   I wrote this poem comparing him with the officer leading the troops to the front lines………….

The Judas Goat.

Follow the leader, wherever he goes,
Where are we going? He only knows.
Why do we follow, we all act like sheep,
To glory or death, without even a bleep.

He knows where he’s going; He’s been here before,
‘Nothing to fear lads, just straight to the fore.
Surprises await lads; you’ll get just reward’,
But what is that smell lads? from Him - not a word.

Ten thousand before us, went up the line,
We’ll give them a hiding; we’ll get them this time,
A short distance further, just up to the pass,
But what’s that I smell now? is it blinking gas?

My eyes they are bleeding, I think I’ve gone blind,
The same for my mates, lads, in front and behind,
I think I am choking, it’s burning my throat,
But where has He gone lads, that damn Judas Goat.

Gone back for a fresh lot, some more cannon fodder,
I can’t move my arms, lads, I think I’m a goner,
A fist full of silver, for that we were sold,
Your country it needs you’, was what we were told.

Like lambs to the slaughter, we were led there by Him,
While we were all butchered, He gave not a whim.
Like a high-ranking officer, He never felt pain,
That damn Judas Goat, lied again and again.

 .......Mike......