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"Back us up, mates!" "Gawd, we will!"
"'Eave them sh.e.l.ls at Kaiser Bill!"
"Art from Lancas.h.i.+re, melad?"
"Gi' 'en a cheer, boys; make 'en glad."
"'Ip 'urrah!" "Give Fritz the chuck."
"Good ol' b.l.o.o.d.y Yorks!" "Good-luck!"
"Cheer!"
I cannot cheer or speak Lest my voice, my heart must break.
IX.--THE a.s.sAULT
NOTE.--(1) "Zero" is the hour agreed upon by the Staff when the infantry are to go over the parapet and advance to the a.s.sault. (2) Guns are said to "lift" when, after pounding the front line of the enemy, they lengthen their range and set up a barrier of fire behind his front line to prevent supports moving up. Our infantry then advance.
The beating of the guns grows louder.
"_Not long, boys, now._"
My heart burns whiter, fearfuller, prouder.
Hurricanes grow As guns redouble their fire.
Through the shaken periscope peeping, I glimpse their wire: Black earth, fountains of earth rise, leaping, Spouting like shocks of meeting waves.
Death's fountains are playing.
Sh.e.l.ls like shrieking birds rush over; Crash and din rises higher.
A stream of lead raves Over us from the left ... (we safe under cover!) Cras.h.!.+ Reverberation! Cras.h.!.+
Acrid smoke billowing. Flash upon flash.
Black smoke drifting. The German line Vanishes in confusion, smoke. Cries, and cry Of our men, "_Gah, yer swine!
Ye're for it_" die In a hurricane of sh.e.l.l.
One cry: "_We're comin' soon! look out!_"
There is opened h.e.l.l Over there; fragments fly, Rifles and bits of men whirled at the sky: Dust, smoke, thunder! A sudden bout Of machine guns chattering....
And redoubled battering, As if in fury at their daring!...
No good staring.
Time soon now ... home ... house on a sunny hill....
Gone like a flickered page: Time soon now ... zero ... will engage....
A sudden thrill-- "Fix bayonets!"
G.o.ds! we have our fill Of fear, hysteria, exultation, rage, Rage to kill.
My heart burns hot, whiter and whiter, Contracts tighter and tighter, Until I stifle with the will Long forged, now used (Though utterly strained)-- O pounding heart, Baffled, confused, Heart panged, head singing, dizzily pained-- To do my part.
Blindness a moment. Sick.
There the men are!
Bayonets ready: click!
Time goes quick; A stumbled prayer ... somehow a blazing star In a blue night ... where?
Again prayer.
The tongue trips. Start: How's time? Soon now. Two minutes or less.
The gun's fury mounting higher....
Their utmost. I lift a silent hand. Unseen I bless Those hearts will follow me.
And beautifully, Now beautifully my will grips.
Soul calm and round and filmed and white!
A shout: "Men, no such order as retire"
I nod.
The whistle's 'twixt my lips....
I catch A wan, worn smile at me.
Dear men!
The pale wrist-watch....
The quiet hand ticks on amid the din.
The guns again Rise to a last fury, to a rage, a l.u.s.t: Kill! Pound! Kill! Pound! Pound!
Now comes the thrust!
My part ... dizziness ... will ... but trust These men. The great guns rise; Their fury seems to burst the earth and skies!
They lift.
Gather, heart, all thoughts that drift; Be steel, soul, Compress thyself Into a round, bright whole.
I cannot speak.
Time. Time!
I hear my whistle shriek, Between teeth set; I fling an arm up, Scramble up the grime Over the parapet!
I'm up. Go on.
Something meets us.
Head down into the storm that greets us.
A wail.
Lights. Blurr.
Gone.
On, on. Le[)a]d. Le[)a]d. Hail.
Spatter. Whirr! Whirr!
"_Toward that patch of brown; Direction left._" Bullets a stream.
Devouring thought crying in a dream.
Men, crumpled, going down....
Go on. Go.
Deafness. Numbness. The loudening tornado.
Bullets. Mud. Stumbling and skating.
My voice's strangled shout: "_Steady pace, boys!_"
The still light: gladness.
"_Look, sir. Look out!_"
Ha! ha! Bunched figures waiting.
Revolver levelled quick!
Flick! Flick!
Red as blood.
Germans. Germans.
Good! O good!
Cool madness.
X.--THE LAST MORNING
