Today my thoughts turn to British drizzle, and the soldiers from foreign lands who endured it.

Written just 4 years apart, Auden's 'Roman Wall Blues' and Pruszyński's 'Polish Invasion' reflect on the boredom, discomfort and loneliness of guarding the frontiers in the North

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In 1937, Auden imagined a Tungrian soldier, stationed at Housesteads fort:

'Over the heather the wet wind blows
I've lice in my tunic and cold in my nose.'

He worries about his girlfriend straying while he's away - with good reason; he gambled away the ring she gave him.
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By 1941, the world was at war and 15,000 Polish troops were based in Scotland.

Pruszyński describes two Polish soldiers charged with guarding the coast, damp in the sea mist, who think back to their families in Poland and think enviously of friends in Swiss internment
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"Well, we are doing little else here, to tell the truth. We just patrol our sector and watch the sea..."

"We are still soldiers, and sooner or later we shall fight again. Would not Staszek and Romek like to exchange places with us in this cold pillbox, on a wintry night?"
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"Scotland was asleep. The great cities and the Highland villages slept. Even the black-headed sheep were asleep on their pastures.

Along the dented line of the Scottish sea-coast the Polish soldiers are changing the fourth watch."
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