A Good Sword

Once upon a time, it came to pass that I ran across an old sabre.

Cavalry.

Polish.

It clearly had seen some use, the edge having been re-sharpened. A knowledgeable colleague dated its manufacture to the late 19^th century. Rumor had it that the weapon had seen service in World War Two, and I confess that, on kissing the blade, I imagined I caught a whiff of nazi blood still clinging to that cold, hard steel.

 A notion I found quite pleasant.

Not many people know it, but units of Polish cavalry served with distinction during that war, fighting successfully in more than a dozen engagements. The Nazi propaganda machine was so effective at serving up a mirror-image of the truth, that you can find some of their lies perpetuated in history books even today. 

In one encounter, for example, The Poles executed a wild surprise charge against a “superior” German force and more or less routed them. The Nazis claimed that the foolish Poles had committed suicide by throwing their antiquated horse cavalry against the invincible tanks of the invincible Reich.   

Hitler wasn’t big on admitting mistakes.

In any case, the sabre in question bore an inscription on the blade. Unfortunately, it was in Polish and I don’t speak it, so I had to find someone who could translate.  A young woman of my acquaintance was up to that task (and any other task as well, but that’s another story).

The inscription said:

                                      “God, give me a good sword and no use for it.”

I find that equally poignant and profound.

Therein lies a valuable lesson for today.

aac