My thoughts on Dulce et Decorum Est.

This poem really did strike me as something unique. I've always been a fan of war fiction, and while war is often held in a bad light in literature (for good reason), I felt that the poem "Dulce et Decorum Est" really took the animosity towards the pointless waste of life in most of our petty international squabbles and ran with it. No delusions of glory or happiness are found here; there's no real "moral" (as Tim O'Brien would say). War is awful. That's it. It's a burden on the working class enlisted to fight on behalf of those more fortunate, and it is neither "fitting" nor "sweet" to suffocate to death on a cloud of poison gas in the bottom of a trench covered in a raggedy uniform.