How many stories of battlefields have been written of late, written to be scanned hastily over the breakfast-table or comfortably lounged over in an easy chair, stories warranted not to shock or disgust, wherein the reader may learn of the glorious achievements of our armies, of heroic deeds and noble self-sacrifice, so that frequently I have heard it said that war, since it produces heroes, is a goodly thing, a necessary thing.
Can the average reader know or even faintly imagine the other side of the picture? Surely not, for no clean human mind can compass all the horror, all the brutal1, grotesque2 obscenity of a modern battlefield. Therefore I propose to write plainly, briefly3, of that which I saw on my last visit to the British front; for since in blood-sodden4 France men are dying even as I pen these lines, it seems only just that those of us for whom they are giving their[Pg 82] lives should at least know something of the manner of their dying. To this end I visited four great battle-fields and I would that all such as cry up war, its necessity, its inevitability5, might have gone beside me. Though I have sometimes written of war, yet I am one that hates war, one to whom the sight of suffering and bloodshed cause physical pain, yet I forced myself to tread those awful fields of death and agony, to look upon the ghastly aftermath of modern battle, that, if it be possible, I might by my testimony6 in some small way help those who know as little of war as I did once, to realise the horror of it, that loathing7 it for the hellish thing it is, they may, one and all, set their faces against war henceforth, with an unshakeable determination that never again shall it be permitted to maim8, to destroy and blast out of being the noblest works of God.
What I write here I set down deliberately9, with no idea of phrase-making, of literary values or rounded periods; this is and shall be a plain, trite10 statement of fact.
And now, one and all, come with me in spirit, lend me your mind's eyes, and see for yourselves something of what modern war really is.
Behold11 then a stretch of country—a sea of mud far as the eye can reach, a grim, desolate12 expanse, its surface ploughed and churned by thousands of high-explosive shells into ugly holes and tortured heaps like muddy waves struck motionless upon this muddy sea. The guns are silent, the cheers and frenzied13 shouts, the screams and groans14 have long[Pg 83] died away, and no sound is heard save the noise of my own going.
The sun shone palely and a fitful wind swept across the waste, a noxious15 wind, cold and dank, that chilled me with a sudden dread16 even while the sweat ran from me. I walked amid shell-craters, sometimes knee-deep in mud, I stumbled over rifles half buried in the slime, on muddy knapsacks, over muddy bags half full of rusty18 bombs, and so upon the body of a dead German soldier. With arms wide-flung and writhen legs grotesquely19 twisted he lay there beneath my boot, his head half buried in the mud, even so I could see that the maggots had been busy, though the — had killed them where they clung. So there he lay, this dead Boche, skull20 gleaming under shrunken scalp, an awful, eyeless thing, that seemed to start, to stir and shiver as the cold wind stirred his muddy clothing. Then nausea21 and a deadly faintness seized me, but I shook it off, and shivering, sweating, forced myself to stoop and touch that awful thing, and, with the touch, horror and faintness passed, and in their place I felt a deep and passionate22 pity for all he was a Boche, and with pity in my heart I turned and went my way.
But now, wherever I looked were other shapes, that lay in attitudes frightfully contorted, grotesque and awful. Here the battle had raged desperately23. I stood in a very charnel-house of dead. From a mound24 of earth upflung by a bursting shell a clenched25 fist, weather-bleached and pallid26, seemed to threaten me; from another emerged a pair of[Pg 84] crossed legs with knees up-drawn, very like the legs of one who dozes27 gently on a hot day. Hard by, a pair of German knee-boots topped a shell crater17, and drawing near, I saw the grey-green breeches, belt and pouches28, and beyond—nothing but unspeakable corruption29. I started back in horror and stepped on something that yielded underfoot—glanced down and saw a bloated, discoloured face, that, even as I looked, vanished beneath my boot and left a bare and grinning skull.
Once again the faintness seized me, and lifting my head I stared round about me and across the desolation of this hellish waste. Far in the distance was the road where men moved to and fro, busy with picks and shovels30, and some sang and some whistled and never sound more welcome. Here and there across these innumerable shell holes, solitary31 figures moved, men, these, who walked heedfully and with heads down-bent. And presently I moved on, but now, like these distant figures, I kept my gaze upon that awful mud lest again I should trample32 heedlessly on something that had once lived and loved and laughed. And they lay everywhere, here stark33 and stiff, with no pitiful earth to hide their awful corruption—here again, half buried in slimy mud; more than once my nailed boot uncovered mouldering34 tunic35 or things more awful. And as I trod this grisly place my pity grew, and with pity a profound wonder that the world with its so many millions of reasoning minds should permit such things to be, until I remembered that few, even the most imaginative, could realise[Pg 85] the true frightfulness36 of modern men-butchering machinery37, and my wonder changed to a passionate desire that such things should be recorded and known, if only in some small measure, wherefore it is I write these things.
I wandered on past shell holes, some deep in slime, that held nameless ghastly messes, some a-brim with bloody38 water, until I came where three men lay side by side, their hands upon their levelled rifles. For a moment I had the foolish thought that these men were weary and slept, until, coming near, I saw that these had died by the same shell-burst. Near them lay yet another shape, a mangled39 heap, one muddy hand yet grasping muddy rifle, while, beneath the other lay the fragment of a sodden letter—probably the last thing those dying eyes had looked upon.
Death in horrible shape was all about me. I saw the work wrought40 by shrapnel, by gas, and the mangled red havoc41 of high-explosive. It only seemed unreal, like one that walked in a nightmare. Here and there upon this sea of mud rose the twisted wreckage43 of aeroplanes, and from where I stood I counted five, but as I tramped on and on these five grew to nine. One of these lying upon my way I turned aside to glance at, and stared through a tangle44 of wires into a pallid thing that had been a face once comely45 and youthful; the leather jacket had been opened at the neck for the identity disc as I suppose, and glancing lower I saw that this leather jacket was discoloured, singed46, burnt—and below this, a charred47 and unrecognisable mass.
[Pg 86]
Is there a man in the world to-day who, beholding48 such horrors, would not strive with all his strength to so order things that the hell of war should be made impossible henceforth? Therefore, I have recorded in some part what I have seen of war.
So now, all of you who read, I summon you in the name of our common humanity, let us be up and doing. Americans—Anglo-Saxons, let our common blood be a bond of brotherhood49 between us henceforth, a bond indissoluble. As you have now entered the war, as you are now our allies in deed as in spirit, let this alliance endure hereafter. Already there is talk of some such League, which, in its might and unity50, shall secure humanity against any recurrence51 of the evils the world now groans under. Here is a noble purpose, and I conceive it the duty of each one of us, for the sake of those who shall come after, that we should do something to further that which was once looked upon as only an Utopian dream—the universal Brotherhood of Man.
"The flowers o' the forest are a' faded away."
Far and wide they lie, struck down in the flush of manhood, full of the joyous52, unconquerable spirit of youth. Who knows what noble ambitions once were theirs, what splendid works they might not have wrought? Now they lie, each poor, shattered body a mass of loathsome53 corruption. Yet that diviner part, that no bullet may slay54, no steel rend55 or mar42, has surely entered into the[Pg 87] fuller living, for Death is but the gateway56 into Life and infinite possibilities.
But, upon all who sit immune, upon all whom as yet this bitter war has left untouched, is the blood of these that died in the cause of humanity, the cause of Freedom for us and the generations to come, this blood is upon each one of us—consecrating us to the task they have died to achieve, and it is our solemn duty to see that the wounds they suffered, the deaths they died, have not been, and shall not be, in vain.
点击收听单词发音
1 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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2 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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3 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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4 sodden | |
adj.浑身湿透的;v.使浸透;使呆头呆脑 | |
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5 inevitability | |
n.必然性 | |
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6 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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7 loathing | |
n.厌恶,憎恨v.憎恨,厌恶( loathe的现在分词);极不喜欢 | |
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8 maim | |
v.使残废,使不能工作,使伤残 | |
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9 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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10 trite | |
adj.陈腐的 | |
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11 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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12 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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13 frenzied | |
a.激怒的;疯狂的 | |
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14 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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15 noxious | |
adj.有害的,有毒的;使道德败坏的,讨厌的 | |
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16 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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17 crater | |
n.火山口,弹坑 | |
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18 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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19 grotesquely | |
adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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20 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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21 nausea | |
n.作呕,恶心;极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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22 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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23 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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24 mound | |
n.土墩,堤,小山;v.筑堤,用土堆防卫 | |
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25 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 pallid | |
adj.苍白的,呆板的 | |
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27 dozes | |
n.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的名词复数 )v.打盹儿,打瞌睡( doze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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28 pouches | |
n.(放在衣袋里或连在腰带上的)小袋( pouch的名词复数 );(袋鼠等的)育儿袋;邮袋;(某些动物贮存食物的)颊袋 | |
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29 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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30 shovels | |
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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31 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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32 trample | |
vt.踩,践踏;无视,伤害,侵犯 | |
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33 stark | |
adj.荒凉的;严酷的;完全的;adv.完全地 | |
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34 mouldering | |
v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 );腐烂,崩塌 | |
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35 tunic | |
n.束腰外衣 | |
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36 frightfulness | |
可怕; 丑恶; 讨厌; 恐怖政策 | |
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37 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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38 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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39 mangled | |
vt.乱砍(mangle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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40 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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41 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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42 mar | |
vt.破坏,毁坏,弄糟 | |
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43 wreckage | |
n.(失事飞机等的)残骸,破坏,毁坏 | |
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44 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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45 comely | |
adj.漂亮的,合宜的 | |
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46 singed | |
v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 );(毛发)燎,烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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47 charred | |
v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式);烧焦 | |
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48 beholding | |
v.看,注视( behold的现在分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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49 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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50 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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51 recurrence | |
n.复发,反复,重现 | |
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52 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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53 loathsome | |
adj.讨厌的,令人厌恶的 | |
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54 slay | |
v.杀死,宰杀,杀戮 | |
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55 rend | |
vt.把…撕开,割裂;把…揪下来,强行夺取 | |
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56 gateway | |
n.大门口,出入口,途径,方法 | |
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