Poetry competition CLOSED 26th August 2014 10:32pm
WINNER
snugglebuck
snugglebuck
RUNNER-UP:
Austin_Rura
Page:
Mirror Army
Poetry Contest Description
write a dramatic poem from the point of view of both a homesick US Marine and a Nazi Waffen SS soldier during world war two
no collaborations
multiple submission allowed
you must fairly express both soldiers real views on the war
multiple submission allowed
you must fairly express both soldiers real views on the war
MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALL
WHO IS THE TOUGHEST OF THEM ALL?
My name is Adolf Diekmann, commandant of the 4th SS Panzergrenadier Regiment.(Der Führer), of the Waffen-SS.
My name is Peter J. Ortiz, I was a leader of a small group of United States Marines that operated behind enemy lines in Europe and North Africa, during WWII.
My regiment of Waffen-SS came from volunteers who were carefully screened to meet strict physical and racial requirements that personified the Aryan race.
After being asked by General 'Wild Bill' Donavan to form a crack commando team from the ranks of allied forces, I didn’t even bother all that selection nonsense. I just took a walk in London’s Hyde Park, where I ran into some other U.S. Marines. Understand, there were very few of us Jar Heads in Europe, and most were regulated to back seat clerical duties, seldom seeing combat. I just walked up to these guys and said, “Hey, you guys wanna go kill some Nazis?"
I met Heinrich Himmler and Adolf Hitler.
I once hung out with Julia Childs.
As I loath the ethnic impure and the genetically inferior, I took great enjoyment in rounding up Jews, Gypsies, Poles and Slavs to be sent to the gas chambers. I am a proud member of the Master Race.
I’m a mixed up kid from the Bronx. But mixed ethnicity has its advantages. Born to a Spanish father and a French mother in a New York tenement of immigrants, I grew-up speaking several languages, including German, French and Arabic. My mix also gave me a knack for getting along with all kinds of folks. My multilingual talent, along with my swarthy complexion, allows me to blend in very easily. My first mission was in occupied Morocco, where me and the boys trained, and led, Moroccan tribesman against the Reich.
I am infamous for my atrocities. Most notable was the day I rounded up the entire French village of Oradour-sur-Glane. I separated the women and children from the men, and had them locked up in the village church. After several hours of unimaginable torture, I had all the men machined gunned. Then, I had the church set afire so the women and children could be burned alive. One young mother managed to escape out a window with infant in hand, but I personally gunned her and the baby down. In all, I murdered 647 people that day.
Very little is known about me. Though I was highly decorated, winning two Navy Crosses, I never got the Medal of Honor and the notoriety that went with it. And I never retained a rank above Major, till right before I retired. Some say it’s because of the secrecy of what I do, others tell me it’s because I’m not exactly the whitest slice of bread in the loaf, if you know what I mean? Something else that’s kind of funny, Hollywood never made a movie about me and my Marines. You’d thought they would have come up with something by now.
I am proud to wear the black uniform of the Waffen-SS. The very site of me in my jack boots make the French shutter in fear.
The French love me, and I love them. Operating behind lines, I’d often be in disguise. But I always had my Marine Blues handy in case I was ever captured. I did wear my uniform in public once. I was hanging out in bar, frequented by Waffen-SS in the hopes of eavesdropping on their conversations on how they planned to deal with the expected Allied invasion. One particular night those black suited hobnail booted bastards started insulting President Roosevelt. I tried, to keep my composure, but when they started in how the U.S. Marines wouldn’t be participating in any European invasion, on account we were a second rate, racially integrated pack of subhuman mongrels, not worthy to battle the 'Master Race', I just couldn’t take it. So I stormed out of the place. An hour later I came back, dressed in my Marine Blues with a Colt .45 in each hand. You should have seen the frighten look in their eyes, when at gun point I made those kraut-sucking-Sons-Of-Bitches make a toast to FDR. Then I had them give a toast to ‘Old Glory’; and finally, I made them toast the greatest group of warriors in the War, the United States Marine Corp. By then those SS were getting pretty drunk. So I decided to make a toast of my own, and believe me, you don’t want to know the grief I poured out.
The Waffen-SS is my family. I love war, as it is a survival of the fittest. It is the means by which the Aryan race will attain its proper place, as ruler's of the World. I savor the smell of death, and I delight at my enemy's defeat. "HEIL HITLER!"
I miss my family terribly, but a Marine has to do, what he has been asked too. "HOO-RAW!"
“Now dear readers,
Between these two,
Who ended up
Killing whom?”
WHO IS THE TOUGHEST OF THEM ALL?
My name is Adolf Diekmann, commandant of the 4th SS Panzergrenadier Regiment.(Der Führer), of the Waffen-SS.
My name is Peter J. Ortiz, I was a leader of a small group of United States Marines that operated behind enemy lines in Europe and North Africa, during WWII.
My regiment of Waffen-SS came from volunteers who were carefully screened to meet strict physical and racial requirements that personified the Aryan race.
After being asked by General 'Wild Bill' Donavan to form a crack commando team from the ranks of allied forces, I didn’t even bother all that selection nonsense. I just took a walk in London’s Hyde Park, where I ran into some other U.S. Marines. Understand, there were very few of us Jar Heads in Europe, and most were regulated to back seat clerical duties, seldom seeing combat. I just walked up to these guys and said, “Hey, you guys wanna go kill some Nazis?"
I met Heinrich Himmler and Adolf Hitler.
I once hung out with Julia Childs.
As I loath the ethnic impure and the genetically inferior, I took great enjoyment in rounding up Jews, Gypsies, Poles and Slavs to be sent to the gas chambers. I am a proud member of the Master Race.
I’m a mixed up kid from the Bronx. But mixed ethnicity has its advantages. Born to a Spanish father and a French mother in a New York tenement of immigrants, I grew-up speaking several languages, including German, French and Arabic. My mix also gave me a knack for getting along with all kinds of folks. My multilingual talent, along with my swarthy complexion, allows me to blend in very easily. My first mission was in occupied Morocco, where me and the boys trained, and led, Moroccan tribesman against the Reich.
I am infamous for my atrocities. Most notable was the day I rounded up the entire French village of Oradour-sur-Glane. I separated the women and children from the men, and had them locked up in the village church. After several hours of unimaginable torture, I had all the men machined gunned. Then, I had the church set afire so the women and children could be burned alive. One young mother managed to escape out a window with infant in hand, but I personally gunned her and the baby down. In all, I murdered 647 people that day.
Very little is known about me. Though I was highly decorated, winning two Navy Crosses, I never got the Medal of Honor and the notoriety that went with it. And I never retained a rank above Major, till right before I retired. Some say it’s because of the secrecy of what I do, others tell me it’s because I’m not exactly the whitest slice of bread in the loaf, if you know what I mean? Something else that’s kind of funny, Hollywood never made a movie about me and my Marines. You’d thought they would have come up with something by now.
I am proud to wear the black uniform of the Waffen-SS. The very site of me in my jack boots make the French shutter in fear.
The French love me, and I love them. Operating behind lines, I’d often be in disguise. But I always had my Marine Blues handy in case I was ever captured. I did wear my uniform in public once. I was hanging out in bar, frequented by Waffen-SS in the hopes of eavesdropping on their conversations on how they planned to deal with the expected Allied invasion. One particular night those black suited hobnail booted bastards started insulting President Roosevelt. I tried, to keep my composure, but when they started in how the U.S. Marines wouldn’t be participating in any European invasion, on account we were a second rate, racially integrated pack of subhuman mongrels, not worthy to battle the 'Master Race', I just couldn’t take it. So I stormed out of the place. An hour later I came back, dressed in my Marine Blues with a Colt .45 in each hand. You should have seen the frighten look in their eyes, when at gun point I made those kraut-sucking-Sons-Of-Bitches make a toast to FDR. Then I had them give a toast to ‘Old Glory’; and finally, I made them toast the greatest group of warriors in the War, the United States Marine Corp. By then those SS were getting pretty drunk. So I decided to make a toast of my own, and believe me, you don’t want to know the grief I poured out.
The Waffen-SS is my family. I love war, as it is a survival of the fittest. It is the means by which the Aryan race will attain its proper place, as ruler's of the World. I savor the smell of death, and I delight at my enemy's defeat. "HEIL HITLER!"
I miss my family terribly, but a Marine has to do, what he has been asked too. "HOO-RAW!"
“Now dear readers,
Between these two,
Who ended up
Killing whom?”
We march on toward the devils Reich
through hell and back it appears we must hike
We push forward with all of our might
battling with our lives against what we know isnt right
never knowing if we'll make it through the night.
we fight... hoo ra! we fight!
we fight against evil, we rise against this axis.
we fight against people who are nothing but fascists.
we free our fellow man, and save women and children.
for if we dont save the good in need, who the fuck will then?
but me and my brothers are sick of inhumanity and were so sick of killin
i cant wait to personally put a bullet in our worlds worst villian.
...
If you arent a German you arent a person!
My daughters in the hitler youth where they WILL give her truth
it fills me with pride as i see my child becoming like i am inside
I am SS, i fight for mine Furhur!
my religions what my potentate tells me, even to murder.
I see that the world is so full of waste that fills me with hate
but now my furhur has delivered me to a land of productivity... the taste of ashes is great
(btw just writing that shit gave me the chills man... one of the darkest parts of recorded history)
through hell and back it appears we must hike
We push forward with all of our might
battling with our lives against what we know isnt right
never knowing if we'll make it through the night.
we fight... hoo ra! we fight!
we fight against evil, we rise against this axis.
we fight against people who are nothing but fascists.
we free our fellow man, and save women and children.
for if we dont save the good in need, who the fuck will then?
but me and my brothers are sick of inhumanity and were so sick of killin
i cant wait to personally put a bullet in our worlds worst villian.
...
If you arent a German you arent a person!
My daughters in the hitler youth where they WILL give her truth
it fills me with pride as i see my child becoming like i am inside
I am SS, i fight for mine Furhur!
my religions what my potentate tells me, even to murder.
I see that the world is so full of waste that fills me with hate
but now my furhur has delivered me to a land of productivity... the taste of ashes is great
(btw just writing that shit gave me the chills man... one of the darkest parts of recorded history)
Anonymous
Jarheds dont gett homesickk, butt we luve cuttin ballz off our enemies (Part Won)
Phuck this warr. Ima a jarhead puttin' up with this sheet. I wanna kick sum ass. Take no fuckin prizoners. We dont get homesickk. Not on Gwadacanal. We cut dem ballz off dem nipponeses. Nip 'em them down to da bone. Mo jo risin son my leatherneck ass! Semper fee fi fo.
Phuck this warr. Ima a jarhead puttin' up with this sheet. I wanna kick sum ass. Take no fuckin prizoners. We dont get homesickk. Not on Gwadacanal. We cut dem ballz off dem nipponeses. Nip 'em them down to da bone. Mo jo risin son my leatherneck ass! Semper fee fi fo.
Anonymous
Mein Hitler ist crazee lyke me (Part Tew)
Mein namen ist Dieter. It rhymes with Peter. Dew ya catch mein drift? I am part god. I am part man. I am part psycho. I am part aryan. Butt eye dont tell nobody dat. I tell dem I am 100% germanick. I tried te get into da SS. There wuz a serious background check. Sew I nictsxd dat idea. We have da final solution. I am not sure if itz going to werk. I am freezin mein ballz off here in Leningrad. Mail me a wax candle soon leibschen. Und sum knickers. I'm gonna phuck Heinz in his Rhine arse soon. Hez drivin me nutts. Heil Hitler.
Mein namen ist Dieter. It rhymes with Peter. Dew ya catch mein drift? I am part god. I am part man. I am part psycho. I am part aryan. Butt eye dont tell nobody dat. I tell dem I am 100% germanick. I tried te get into da SS. There wuz a serious background check. Sew I nictsxd dat idea. We have da final solution. I am not sure if itz going to werk. I am freezin mein ballz off here in Leningrad. Mail me a wax candle soon leibschen. Und sum knickers. I'm gonna phuck Heinz in his Rhine arse soon. Hez drivin me nutts. Heil Hitler.
