FLAMENCO
Passion of heart and soul… and nimble fingers,
Music
from wood with curves of Woman lingers…
Cinders dance with hot flames as a heart again sings:
“Anew Gypsies found metal strings...!”
For Men of burning eyes, long hair and hard of nail,
Music is wine as dark clouds away do sail…
Whilst intoxicating songs of Life,
Death,
Love and War…
Are every time told as never before…
And a strong hand of Man does suddenly slap,
The delightful form held gently over his lap,
As rhythms of memories and secrets full of pain,
In ancient faraway lands…
of hardly any rain,
Anew become forbidden songs never forgotten…
Now an eternal legacy,
And timeless passion …
Maybe…
In the shadow… of an ancient olive tree?
Do listen with closed eyes… And magic you will see…
Capt. W. Willoughby
Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
Indeed a poetic Officer full of ideas…Willoughby
is even making “Ratty Brew Stew” (more than a drop of French Brandy) or "Stirrabout" (thin stew or soup) to calm hunger, raise money… and more… and definitely having a talent for music… he learns to play real Flamenco
well by pure coincidence on a small, old Spanish guitar he was given and carries on his back. Strings are always a problem… but he finds ways… Oh, yessss…
Flamenco serves as a very good outlet for all the ghastly horrors of war, slaughtering, violence and death the British troops see and do for King (and the Prince Regent “Fat George” The Prince of “Whales”) and Country, almost every
single day without expected to show, utter a sound or say what they really feel whilst hardly moving a muscle in their faces (Good English Form)… And brave indeed when a limb was amputated in a time without antibiotics, anesthetics, or any available
analgesics to kill pain. Officers were given Brandy… enlisted men were simply told to bite down on a piece of leather or wood… and not wishing to be called cowards... or a "Nightingale" never making a sound whilst a leg or an arm... etc... was
sawed off without much ado… specially after battles... Many brave lads did break their teeth… before often dying anyway from gangrene…
Having nothing else, the wounds he treats with willow, honey and even cinnnamon when found and vinagre and in worst cases some stolen French brandy... always heal well and Will is indeed of good help to the overworked surgeons who mostly amputate...
at times with rather stump saws... rinsed with cold water... or not and used for days... after another bucket of water is poured over a bloodied table... often a door on a crate... etc... if they could find that much water in Spain,
which they often did not. A few lucky ones lay on church benches... or on wagons... with unwashed bandages used again and again. Other wounded soldiers fighting for a shilling a day died in long waiting lines. Flies as well as ravenous
dogs and rats had banquets on heaps of bloodied amputated arms and legs close by as legs and feet without boots and straight last shoes (no right or left sole) which were quickly taken whilst a few very tired doctors kept yelling: "Next...!" As quickly
as possible...
Oouuch!
British soldiers crawling with lice, were finally ordered to cut their long hair... Soldier's Queues... in 1806, but Captain Willoughby had a theory
(later proven scientifically right by the North Americans during the Vietnam War) that warriors with long hair were not only better soldiers... unlike others with shorter hair, they could feel danger and the enemy before attacked...(they were better
lovers as well...Ooops!) Needless to say, the 13th. Wildman Company were a hairy bunch. Buggger Grips... (sideburns, later named after Major General Ambrose Burnside fighting in the American Civil War 1861- 1865... were a must as well.)
Willoughby and McGregor were giants at almost 6 feet 5. The average height of soldiers in the early 1800's was 5 feet 5-7 inches. Napoleon Bonaparte was a man of rather short height... higly likely about 5 feet 6". Ambitious,
ruthless and rather puny with narrow shoulders, it seeemd Bonaparte liked to surround himself with much taller officers he could bully. So there! Oh, yesss, and indeed a very human military genius... not much loved by his mother and ignored by his father.
The first Empress Josephine, and the only woman he ever loved was about half an inch shorter than him had terrible skin... full of pimples she could never get rid of... but covered them up well... with a porcelain like paste, hardly ever smiling in public.
Very passionate, hot love letters to her from Napoleon were indeed "found" and published in England to mock him. In one Bonaparte had written:
" ... I'm coming home! Do not
wash, my Love!"
Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen