‘FALL in! Now get a move on.’ (Curse the rain.) <br />We splash away along the straggling village, <br />Out to the flat rich country, green with June… <br />And sunset flares across wet crops and tillage, <br />Blazing with splendour-patches. (Harvest soon, <br />Up in the Line.) ‘Perhaps the War’ll be done <br />‘By Christmas-Day. Keep smiling then, old son.’ <br /> <br />Here’s the Canal: it’s dusk; we cross the bridge. <br />‘Lead on there, by platoons.’ (The Line’s a-glare <br />With shell-fire through the poplars; distant rattle <br />Of rifles and machine-guns.) ‘Fritz is there! <br />‘Christ, ain’t it lively, Sergeant? Is’t a battle?’ <br />More rain: the lightning blinks, and thunder rumbles. <br />‘There’s over-head artillery!’ some chap grumbles. <br /> <br />What’s all this mob at the cross-roads? Where are the guides?… <br />‘Lead on with number One.’ And off they go. <br />‘Three minute intervals.’ (Poor blundering files, <br />Sweating and blindly burdened; who’s to know <br />If death will catch them in those two dark miles?) <br />More rain. ‘Lead on, Head-quarters.’ (That’s the lot.) <br />‘Who’s that?… Oh, Sergeant-Major, don’t get shot! <br />‘And tell me, have we won this war or not?’<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/battalion-relief-2/
