The sights of the dead in all of their postures4 of horror, the loss of those whom he had known and felt affection for, the odor of stinking5 canned meat and of dead bodies made alive again by the heat of the day, the infuriating explosion of artillery6; the kaleidoscopic7 stir of light and color, had bludgeoned his senses. Now he lay, incapable8 of introspection or of retrospection, impervious9 to the demands of the dead and the living.
Somewhere in the Cimmerian darkness low voices emanated10 from vague, mysterious forms. They talked on and on in a sort of indefinable hum. Finally it came to Hicks that the platoon commander was searching for him.
“Hicks is over here,” he heard the man next to him say. The platoon commander approached and bent11 down beside him.
“Hicks, we’ve got to have an outpost. The captain’s afraid there will be an attack. Take your gun crew out about five hundred yards and keep your eye peeled.”
Hicks failed to reply.
“Hicks, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes. All right.” Hicks rose and, followed by two other men, stolidly12 tramped off through the murk.
He strode along in the darkness, a little ahead of the others. Abruptly13 an illuminating14 rocket was fired from somewhere in front of them. Each man stopped motionless, as the incandescent15 arc fell slowly to the ground.
Stepping forward, Hicks’s foot encountered an empty can. It bumped over the ground cacophonously. The men behind cursed in a thorough and dispassionate manner.
For four years the earth over which they were[254] walking had been beaten and churned by the explosions of shells. A labyrinth16 of trenches18 had been dug in it.
Their bodies brushed against stiff little bushes whose thin, wiry limbs grasped at their clothing like hands.
The men had reached the brink19 of a large cavity in the earth when another flare20 was fired. They jumped. The hole was wide and deep enough for them to be able to stand without their heads appearing above the bank.
“Let’s sit here a while. That damned flare didn’t seem to be more than a hundred yards from here.”
“Yeah, le’s. I don’t want to git my head shot off this late in the game.”
They talked on in undertones, while Hicks, silent, smiled serenely21 in the darkness. Suddenly he realized that they were not the only persons in the trench17. A few feet before him two other bodies, huddled22 together, were discernible. He had no thought of the fact that he was between both lines, and that any other persons who were also there must be enemies. He only knew that he wanted to talk to these strangers in front of him.
“It’s a quiet night, what?”
“Don’t talk so loud,” the men beside him counselled.
He shook his head, annoyed at their interruption, and began again:
“Who are you talkin’ to, Hicks? What’s the matter with you?” his loader impatiently asked.
Hicks ignored him. “What outfit did you say you belonged to? What?”—as if they had answered indistinctly.
He rose and stood in front of them.
“I asked you a civil question. Why can’t you answer me?”
Their silence infuriated him.
“Answer me, damn it.” He grasped the shoulders of one of the bodies, shaking them. Beneath the clothing the flesh loosened from the body.
“Hell, you’re dead,” Hicks told the body disgustedly. He turned to his gun crew. “They’re dead. That’s why they didn’t answer me. No damned good.”
The loader turned to the other man.
“Le’s git outa here, Hicks is nuts.”
“Yeah. He gives me the creeps.”
Hicks sat down across from the two bodies. His elbows on his knees, his arms folded, he lowered his head and was soon asleep. He was awakened25 by voices crying:
“Hicks! What’s wrong?”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Tryin’ to git a cru de geer by stayin’ out alone all night?”
He looked up and through the early dawn saw the faces of his own platoon. Without answering he picked up his automatic rifle which lay beside him, and joined them.
The ground over which they were advancing was flat for a long distance, then it rose in a steep hill that stood majestically26 in the dawn. Upon the ground many people had left their marks: a group of bones, a piece of equipment, a helmet, a rifle barrel from which the stock had rotted.
There was no hindrance27 to the advance of the platoon. From that point in the line which for miles was being attacked that morning, even the rear-guard had withdrawn28. But the withdrawal30 had been made to the top of the hill, whose crest31 was a large plateau. Perhaps a thousand yards from the brink, where a ridge32[257] cut the flatness of the ground, the German lines had intrenched and lay waiting to be attacked.
As the platoon climbed up the hill they could hear the friendly explosion of their own barrage33. It gave them strength to thread their way among the bushes on the hill, ever nearing the summit, and not knowing the sort of reception that was waiting for them.
A portly captain, puffing35 like a porpoise36, clambered up with them. From time to time he would stop and take from his hip37 pocket a brightly colored paper sack of scrap38 tobacco. Then, with a generous amount in the side of his mouth, he would begin again the ascent39. He offered the paper bag to some of the men nearer to him, and they accepted it gratefully, but not cramming40 their mouths so full as he. The portly captain also invented the fiction that he was a former brewery41-wagon42 driver in St. Louis and that, “By God, he wished he was back on a brewery wagon again.”
The men laughed obligingly but hollowly.
The platoon reached the summit. Little curls of gray smoke, looking like shadowy question-marks, rose over the plateau in the distance. Beyond was the ridge, perhaps a mile from the brink over which the men were climbing.[258] To the right of the ridge a long, white-sided, red-topped farmhouse43 rested. To the left the plateau ended in another hill.
It was not long after the platoon had arrived on the level ground that machine-guns began pouring a steady stream of lead over the field. Hesitatingly the platoon advanced. The machine-guns were pointing too high. Occasionally a bullet, probably a faulty one, struck the ground beside the slowly advancing line, but without force.
The portly captain shifted his wad of tobacco, spat44 a thin stream, and ordered the platoon to halt.
There were half a dozen shovels and two picks.
“All right, you men with shovels. Halt right here and dig a trench as long and as deep as you can. The rest of us—Forward!”
Slowly, warily46, they set forth47 again. Now no one spoke48, not even the garrulous49 and confidence-breeding captain.
The machine-guns aimed lower, but too low. Only the ricochetting bullets reached the platoon.
They advanced until they were half-way to the ridge. Then they discovered that there were Germans much nearer to them than they had supposed. From little humps on the ground rifle bullets pinged past, shaving near the ears of the men. From the hill on the left came a whining50 serenade of lead. Shots were being fired from every direction but from the rear. The men threw themselves upon the ground, not knowing what to do.
After a long wait the firing abated51 and the platoon started to creep forward. Instantly their movement was met with a hail of bullets. They lay quite still, their uniforms blending with the russet of the grass, on which the sun shone with intense vigor52.
Hicks, lying at the extreme left of the platoon, was engaged in corralling those words which entered his mind and placing them into two classes—words with an even number of letters, words with an uneven53 number of letters. He had long held the view that the evenly lettered words were preponderant.
“P-l-a-t-o-o-n. Seven—that’s uneven. S-e-v-e-n—that’s uneven, too. U-n-e-v-e-n—six—even. Ha-a s-t-r-a-n-g-e—seven—again the mystic number. M-y-s-t-i-c—six—that’s[260] even. And n-u-m-b-e-r—six, too. Let’s see, that’s five even and four—no, five”—he lost track of the number of unevenly54 lettered words he had thought of—his activity was interrupted by the ridiculous words—“oh, when I die—d-i-e—uneven—just bury me deep—d-e-e-p—even. Deeper, deeper, deeper where the croakers sleep. S-l-e-e-p—uneven, too, damn it. And tell all the boys that I died brave——”
He broke off. Behind a bush, a few hundred yards distant, an enormous olive that was supported by legs was hiding. Bellied55 to the ground, he started to crawl, his path describing a small arc. His automatic rifle, grasped in the middle by his right hand, interfered56 with his movements. His abstraction was so great that he bruised57 his knuckles58 between the rifle and the ground. The musette bag, filled with ammunition59 and suspended from his neck, was another annoyance. When he tried more quickly to move forward it got in his way.
The olive moved ever so slightly. It now seemed to be a combination of olive and turtle, with its queer hand rising above its body.
A jagged stone cut through Hicks’s trousers, bringing the blood. He crawled on, railing at the hot sun.
A shell hole yawned in front of him. Like an alligator60 slipping into the water, his body slid down to the bottom. He was almost directly across from the olive, and now he saw that it was neither olive nor turtle, but a German with a rifle pointing through the limbs of the bushes toward his platoon. He stuck the tripod in the bank a foot from the top of the hole. He adjusted the stock to his shoulder and fired.
The German scurried from his hiding-place out into the open. Hicks fired again. The German stopped, and, with a queer, hopeless gesture, his arms flung over his head, sprawled61 on the ground.
Hicks crawled out of the hole, moving forward. Nearly every one of the bushes concealed63 a German. Hicks anticipated a day’s occupation.
Now, other members of the platoon had worked their way along the ground and near to where Hicks lay. Bullets spattered furiously all around. Hicks minded them less than the perspiration64 which ran down his face in little, itching65 rivulets66. He was near enough to the bullets for them to sound like breaking violin strings67, as they whizzed past.
Wasn’t that another atrocious-looking helmet[262] behind the bush to the left? He pressed the trigger, and a volley of shots heated the barrel of his automatic rifle. A bullet struck a few feet from him, kicking up a puff34 of dust.
He crawled on over the undulating ground. From another shell hole he poured out the last of his ammunition at the olive uniforms. Then he threw his rifle from him.
And now the platoon was scattered68 over the field, hiding behind bushes, behind little mounds70 of dirt, giving away their position by the slight curls of smoke from their rifle barrels. Not far ahead were the German snipers, waiting calmly and patiently and firing with rare judgment71. The men on both sides might have been less human than Tin Woodmen, to judge from their silence.
Smoke from the artillery shells hung in gray volutes over the ridge. Puffs72 from the rifles curled thinly skyward, lost in the blue. The men were, to all appearances, motionless, soundless, only their rifles speaking for them.
Then, like an express-train rattling73 over loose ties, machine-guns broke loose from all sides. Their bullets struck the ground beside the men, covering the space where they were lying with a thick haze74 of dust.
The portly captain rose and blew his whistle, commanding the men to retreat. They needed no command. Already they were dashing off like frightened rabbits, scampering75 away to their burrows76.
Hicks watched them for a while, felt the angry hail of bullets, then rose and followed after them.
In their desperation the men with the shovels and picks had dug a trench deep enough to protect prone77 bodies from fire, and into it the retreating platoon fell, released from the fear which, like an angry eagle, beat its wings behind them, against their heads, in their ears, urging them on. The men turned, narrowed out grooves78 in the thrown-up dirt for their rifles to rest on.
The portly captain walked back and forth behind them, admonishing79 them to quickness of action.
“Come on now. I’m a liar80, or else the Dutchmen’ll be over here before we know it. They’ve got the dope on us now.”
He paced in front of them, offering advice, telling one man to dig a deeper barricade81 and another not to expose himself. He turned[264] to Hicks, who was lying still, engaged in nothing.
“Are you an automatic rifleman?” he asked.
Hicks answered that he was.
“Then take your squad82 out a couple of hundred yards and establish an outpost. You can’t tell when them devils’ll come sneakin’ up on us.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Hicks turned away.
His loader of the night before approached the portly captain.
“Sir, you hadn’t better send Hicks out on that outpost.”
The captain spat. “Why the devil not?”
“Because, sir, he’s crazy. Last night he got to talkin’ to dead men, and when they didn’t answer he shook them as if he thought they was alive.”
“Be off with you,” the captain replied, giving the loader no more attention.
Hicks in the lead, the three men started off toward the German lines, to halt half-way, thus to be enabled to inform the platoon if the enemy were attacking. Perhaps four hundreds of yards from the German lines Hicks stopped beside a mound69 of earth wide enough to conceal62 the bodies of the three men.
“You fellows lie down here. I’ve got to get my gun.”
They looked at him agape as he strode toward the enemy’s line near which lay his discarded rifle.
An ochre cannon-ball lay suspended in the soft blue sky. Efflorescent clouds, like fresh chrysanthemums83, were piled high atop one another, their tips transuded with golden beams. The sky was divided into slices of faint pink, purple, and orange.
On the drab earth, beaten lifeless by carnage and corruption84, drab bodies lay, oozing85 thin streams of pink blood, which formed dark, mysterious little pools by their sides. Jaws86 were slack—dark, objectionable caverns87 in pallid88 faces. Some men still moaned, or, in a tone into which discouragement had crept, called for help.
Each body was alone, drawn29 apart from its companions by its separate and incommunicable misery89. The bodies would remain alone until to-morrow or the day after to-morrow, when they would be furnishing a festival for the bugs90 which now only inquisitively91 inspected them.
In the still air the scrubby bushes rose stiff and unyielding, antipathetic to the prostrate92 bodies which were linked to them by the magic of color. The farmhouse on the gray ridge was a gay-capped sepulchre.
Hicks tramped on through the field, dimly sensing the dead, the odors, the scene. He found his rifle where he had thrown it. As he picked it up, the ridge swarmed93 with small gray figures, ever growing nearer. He turned and walked toward his platoon. The breath from his nostrils94 felt cool. He raised his chin a little. The action seemed to draw his feet from the earth. No longer did anything matter, neither the bayonets, the bullets, the barbed wire, the dead, nor the living. The soul of Hicks was numb.
The End
The End
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1
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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postures
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| 姿势( posture的名词复数 )； 看法； 态度； 立场 | |
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stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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7
kaleidoscopic
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| adj.千变万化的 | |
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8
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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10
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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11
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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12
stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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13
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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14
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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15
incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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16
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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17
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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19
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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20
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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21
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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22
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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24
scurried
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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28
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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36
porpoise
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| n.鼠海豚 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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40
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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41
brewery
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| n.啤酒厂 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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45
shovels
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| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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46
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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48
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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49
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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50
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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51
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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52
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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53
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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54
unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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55
bellied
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| adj.有腹的，大肚子的 | |
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56
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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57
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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58
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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59
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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60
alligator
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| n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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61
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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62
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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63
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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64
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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66
rivulets
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| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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68
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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69
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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70
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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72
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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74
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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76
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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79
admonishing
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| v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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81
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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82
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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83
chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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84
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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85
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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86
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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inquisitively
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| 过分好奇地； 好问地 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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94
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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