Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake, <br />Out in the trench with three hours’ watch to take, <br />I blunder through the splashing mirk; and then <br />Hear the gruff muttering voices of the men <br />Crouching in cabins candle-chinked with light. <br />Hark! There’s the big bombardment on our right <br />Rumbling and bumping; and the dark’s a glare <br />Of flickering horror in the sectors where <br />We raid the Boche; men waiting, stiff and chilled, <br />Or crawling on their bellies through the wire. <br />‘What? Stretcher-bearers wanted? Some one killed?’ <br />Five minutes ago I heard a sniper fire: <br />Why did he do it? ... Starlight overhead— <br />Blank stars. I’m wide-awake; and some chap’s dead.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trench-duty/
