|
This short poem The Death of
the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall
Jarrell is the post modern elegy
in which the speaker himself
is a mourner of his death. Beside
it, the poem is the criticism
of devastating war. In order
to expose the horror of war
the poet employs imagery of
abortion by drawing an analogy
between the Ball Turret of the
fighter plane and womb of mother.
He contrasts the womb of the
ball turret and natural womb
of mother. The womb of nation
is indifferent to its soldier,
where as natural womb of mother
is nurturing and warm. The position
of fetus in mother’s womb
and the position of hunched
soldiers inside the Ball Turret
create similarity between ball
turret and womb of mother.
|
|
|
The speaker says that
from his mother’s
womb he fell into state.
He passed from one womb
to another womb. It
is the journey from
the darkness to darkness.
He could never experience
the freedom of human
being. He feels that
he was never born. Inside
the mother’s belly
fur was wet, and inside
Ball Turret he was wet
because of fear and
sweat. He is continuously
attacking enemies and
he is six miles above
the earth. The life
had come up with dreams
and expectations. But
he could never see these
dreams. Therefore he
never got a life. |
The speaker imagines posthumous
(after death) situation. He
evokes the imagery of abortion;
just as an unwanted baby is
aborted and the womb of mother
is washed. After the death of
soldier in war he too, becomes
an unwanted baby for the nation,
thus he is washed from Ball
Turret with the help of hose.
He will not be glorified instead
they would wash every drops
of blood.
Jarrell reminds the deplorable
situation of the soldiers in
the war. Then the speaker imagines
that war is of no use, and when
soldiers die, they are simply
forgotten and they do not become
the subject of remembrance.
Jarrell seems to denounce the
war stating that it is totally
futile.
The
Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
- Poem by Randall Jarrell
From
my mother’s sleep I fell
into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till
my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed
from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the
nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out
of the turret with a hose.
|
