"The firefly lamps were lighted yet,
As we crossed the top of the parapet,
But the East grew pale to another fire,
As our bayonets gleamed by the foeman's wire.
And the Eastern sky was gold and grey,
And under our feet the dead men lay,
As we entered Loos in the morning."
The moment had come when it was unwise to think. The country round Loos was like a sponge; the god of war had stamped with his foot on it, and thousands of men, armed, ready to kill, were squirted out on to the level, barren fields of danger. To dwell for a moment on the novel position of being standing2 where a thousand deaths swept by, missing you by a mere3 hair's breadth, would be sheer folly4. There on the open field of death my life was out of my keeping, but the sensation of fear never entered my being. There was so much simplicity5 and so little effort in doing what I had done, in doing what eight hundred comrades had done, that I[73] felt I could carry through the work before me with as much credit as my code of self respect required. The maxims8 went crackle like dry brushwood under the feet of a marching host. A bullet passed very close to my face like a sharp, sudden breath; a second hit the ground in front, flicked9 up a little shower of dust, and ricochetted to the left, hitting the earth many times before it found a resting place. The air was vicious with bullets; a million invisible birds flicked their wings very close to my face. Ahead the clouds of smoke, sluggish10 low-lying fog, and fumes11 of bursting shells, thick in volume, receded12 towards the German trenches14, and formed a striking background for the soldiers who were marching up a low slope towards the enemy's parapet, which the smoke still hid from view. There was no haste in the forward move, every step was taken with regimental precision, and twice on the way across the Irish boys halted for a moment to correct their alignment15. Only at a point on the right there was some confusion and a little irregularity. Were the men wavering? No fear! The boys on the right were dribbling16 the elusive17 football towards the German trench13.
Raising the stretcher, my mate and I went forward. For the next few minutes I was conscious of many things. A slight rain[74] was falling; the smoke and fumes I saw had drifted back, exposing a dark streak18 on the field of green, the enemy's trench. A little distance away from me three men hurried forward, and two of them carried a box of rifle ammunition19. One of the bearers fell flat to earth, his two mates halted for a moment, looked at the stricken boy, and seemed to puzzle at something. Then they caught hold of the box hangers20 and rushed forward. The man on the ground raised himself on his elbow and looked after his mates, then sank down again to the wet ground. Another soldier came crawling towards us on his belly21, looking for all the world like a gigantic lobster22 which had escaped from its basket. His lower lip was cut clean to the chin and hanging apart; blood welled through the muddy khaki trousers where they covered the hips23.
I recognised the fellow.
"Much hurt, matey?" I asked.
"I'll manage to get in," he said.
"Shall I put a dressing25 on?" I inquired.
"I'll manage to get into our own trench," he stammered26, spitting the blood from his lips. "There are others out at the wires. S—— has caught it bad. Try and get him in, Pat."
"Right, old man," I said, as he crawled off. "Good luck."
[75]
My cap was blown off my head as if by a violent gust27 of wind, and it dropped on the ground. I put it on again, and at that moment a shell burst near at hand and a dozen splinters sung by my ear. I walked forward with a steady step.
"What took my cap off?" I asked myself. "It went away just as if it was caught in a breeze. God!" I muttered, in a burst of realisation, "it was that shell passing." I breathed very deeply, my blood rushed down to my toes and an airy sensation filled my body. Then the stretcher dragged.
"Lift the damned thing up," I called to my mate over my shoulder. There was no reply. I looked round to find him gone, either mixed up in a whooping28 rush of kilted Highlanders, who had lost their objective and were now charging parallel to their own trench, or perhaps he got killed.... How strange that the Highlanders could not charge in silence, I thought, and then recollected29 that most of my boyhood friends, Donegal lads, were in Scottish regiments30.... I placed my stretcher on my shoulder, walked forward towards a bank of smoke which seemed to be standing stationary31, and came across our platoon sergeant32 and part of his company.
"Are we going wrong, or are the Jocks wrong?" he asked his men, then shouted,[76] "Lie flat, boys, for a minute, until we see where we are. There's a big crucifix in Loos churchyard, and we've got to draw on that."
The men threw themselves flat; the sergeant went down on one knee and leant forward on his rifle, his hands on the bayonet standard, the fingers pointing upwards33 and the palms pressed close to the sword which was covered with rust34.... How hard it would be to draw it from a dead body!... The sergeant seemed to be kneeling in prayer.... In front the cloud cleared away, and the black crucifix standing over the graves of Loos became revealed.
"Advance, boys!" said the sergeant. "Steady on to the foot of the Cross and rip the swine out of their trenches."
The Irish went forward....
A boy sat on the ground bleeding at the shoulder and knee.
"You've got hit," I said.
"In a few places," he answered, in a very matter-of-fact voice. "I want to get into a shell-hole."
"I'll try and get you into one," I said. "But I want someone to help me. Hi! you there! Come and give me a hand."
I spoke35 to a man who sat on the rim36 of a crater37 near at hand. His eyes, set close in a white, ghastly face, stared tensely at me.[77] He sat in a crouching38 position, his head thrust forward, his right hand gripping tightly at a mud-stained rifle. Presumably he was a bit shaken and was afraid to advance further.
"Help me to get this fellow into a shell-hole," I called. "He can't move."
There was no answer.
"Come along," I cried, and then it was suddenly borne to me that the man was dead. I dragged the wounded boy into the crater and dressed his wounds.
A shell struck the ground in front, burrowed39, and failed to explode.
"Thank Heaven!" I muttered, and hurried ahead. Men and pieces of men were lying all over the place. A leg, an arm, then again a leg, cut off at the hip24. A finely formed leg, the latter, gracefully40 putteed. A dummy42 leg in a tailor's window could not be more graceful41. It might be X; he was an artist in dress, a Beau Brummel in khaki. Fifty yards further along I found the rest of X....
The harrowing sight was repellent, antagonistic43 to my mind. The tortured things lying at my feet were symbols of insecurity, ominous44 reminders45 of danger from which no discretion46 could save a man. My soul was barren of pity; fear went down into the innermost parts of me, fear for myself. The dead and dying lay all around me; I felt a vague obligation to the latter; they must be carried out. But why[78] should I trouble! Where could I begin? Everything was so far apart. I was too puny47 to start my labours in such a derelict world. The difficulty of accommodating myself to an old task under new conditions was enormous.
A figure in grey, a massive block of Bavarian bone and muscle, came running towards me, his arms in air, and Bill Teake following him with a long bayonet.
"A prisoner!" yelled the boy on seeing me. "'Kamerad! Kamerad!' 'e shouted when I came up. Blimey! I couldn't stab 'im, so I took 'im prisoner. It's not 'arf a barney!... Ave yer got a fag ter spare?"
The Cockney came to a halt, reached for a cigarette, and lit it.
The German stood still, panting like a dog.
"Double! Fritz, double!" shouted the boy, sending a little puff48 of smoke through his nose. "Over to our trench you go! Grease along if yer don't want a bayonet in your——!"
They rushed off, the German with hands in air, and Bill behind with his bayonet perilously49 close to the prisoner. There was something amusing in the incident, and I could not refrain from laughing. Then I got a whiff from a German gas-bomb which exploded near me, and I began spluttering and coughing. The irritation50, only momentary51, was succeeded by[79] a strange humour. I felt as if walking on air, my head got light, and it was with difficulty that I kept my feet on earth. It would be so easy to rise into space and float away. The sensation was a delightful52 one; I felt so pleased with myself, with everything. A wounded man lay on the ground, clawing the earth with frenzied53 fingers. In a vague way, I remembered some ancient law which ordained54 me to assist a stricken man. But I could not do so now, the action would clog55 my buoyancy and that delightful feeling of freedom which permeated56 my being. Another soldier whom I recognised, even at a distance, by his pink-and-white bald pate57, so often a subject for our jokes, reeled over the bloodstained earth, his eyes almost bursting from their sockets58.
"You look bad," I said to him with a smile.
He stared at me drunkenly, but did not answer.
A man, mother-naked, raced round in a circle, laughing boisterously59. The rags that would class him as a friend or foe1 were gone, and I could not tell whether he was an Englishman or a German. As I watched him an impartial60 bullet went through his forehead, and he fell headlong to the earth. The sight sobered me and I regained61 my normal self.
Up near the German wire I found our Company postman sitting in a shell-hole, a[80] bullet in his leg below the knee, and an unlighted cigarette in his mouth.
"You're the man I want," he shouted, on seeing me. And I fumbled62 in my haversack for bandages.
"No dressing for me, yet," he said with a smile. "There are others needing help more than I. What I want is a match."
As I handed him my match box a big high explosive shell flew over our heads and dropped fifty yards away in a little hollow where seven or eight figures in khaki lay prostrate63, faces to the ground. The shell burst and the wounded and dead rose slowly into air to a height of six or seven yards and dropped slowly again, looking for all the world like puppets worked by wires.
"This," said the postman, who had observed the incident, "is a solution of a question which diplomacy64 could not settle, I suppose. The last argument of kings is a damned sorry business."
By the German barbed wire entanglements65 were the shambles67 of war. Here our men were seen by the enemy for the first time that morning. Up till then the foe had fired erratically68 through the oncoming curtain of smoke; but when the cloud cleared away, the attackers were seen advancing, picking their way through the wires which had been cut to little pieces by our bombardment.[81] The Irish were now met with harrying69 rifle fire, deadly petrol bombs and hand grenades. Here I came across dead, dying and sorely wounded; lives maimed and finished, and all the romance and roving that makes up the life of a soldier gone for ever. Here, too, I saw, bullet-riddled, against one of the spider webs known as chevaux de frise, a limp lump of pliable70 leather, the football which the boys had kicked across the field.
I came across Flannery lying close to a barbed wire support, one arm round it as if in embrace. He was a clumsily built fellow, with queer bushy eyebrows71 and a short, squat72 nose. His bearing was never soldierly, but on a march he could bear any burden and stick the job when more alert men fell out. He always bore himself however with a certain grace, due, perhaps, to a placid73 belief in his own strength. He never made friends; a being apart, he led a solitary74 life. Now he lay close to earth hugging an entanglement66 prop75, and dying.
There was something savage76 in the expression of his face as he looked slowly round, like an ox under a yoke77, on my approach. I knelt down beside him and cut his tunic78 with my scissors where a burnt hole clotted79 with blood showed under the kidney. A splinter of shell had torn part of the man's side away. All hope was lost for the poor soul.
[82]
"In much pain, chummy?" I asked.
"Ah, Christ! yes, Pat," he answered. "Wife and two kiddies, too. Are we getting the best of it?"
I did not know how the fight was progressing, but I had seen a line of bayonets drawing near to the second trench out by Loos.
"Winning all along," I answered.
"That's good," he said. "Is there any hope for me?"
"Of course there is, matey," I lied. "You have two of these morphia tablets and lie quiet. We'll take you in after a while, and you'll be back in England in two or three days' time."
I placed the morphia under his tongue and he closed his eyes as if going to sleep. Then, with an effort, he tried to get up and gripped the wire support with such vigour80 that it came clean out of the ground. His legs shot out from under him, and, muttering something about rations81 being fit for pigs and not for men, he fell back and died.
The fighting was not over in the front trench yet, the first two companies had gone ahead, the other two companies were taking possession here. A sturdy Bavarian in shirt and pants was standing on a banquette with his bayonet over the parapet, and a determined82 look in his eyes. He had already done for two of our men as they tried to cross, but[83] now his rifle seemed to be unloaded and he waited. Standing there amidst his dead countrymen he formed a striking figure. A bullet from one of our rifles would have ended his career speedily, but no one seemed to want to fire that shot. There was a moment of suspense83, broken only when the monstrous84 futility85 of resistance became apparent to him, and he threw down his rifle and put up his hands, shouting "Kamerad! Kamerad!" I don't know what became of him afterwards, other events claimed my attention.
Four boys rushed up, panting under the machine gun and ammunition belts which they carried. One got hit and fell to the ground, the maxim7 tripod which he carried fell on top of him. The remainder of the party came to a halt.
"Lift the tripod and come along," his mates shouted to one another.
"Who's goin' to carry it?" asked a little fellow with a box of ammunition.
"You," came the answer.
"Some other one must carry it," said the little fellow. "I've the heaviest burden."
"You've not," one answered. "Get the blurry86 thing on your shoulder."
"Blurry yourself!" said the little fellow. "Someone else carry the thing. Marney can carry it?"
[84]
"I'm not a damned fool!" said Marney. "It can stick there 'fore6 I take it across."
"Not much good goin' over without it," said the little fellow.
I left them there wrangling87: the extra weight would have made no appreciable88 difference to any of them.
It was interesting to see how the events of the morning had changed the nature of the boys. Mild-mannered youths who had spent their working hours of civil life in scratching with inky pens on white paper, and their hours of relaxation89 in cutting capers90 on roller skates and helping91 dainty maidens92 to teas and ices, became possessed93 of mad Berserker rage and ungovernable fury. Now that their work was war the bloodstained bayonet gave them play in which they seemed to glory.
"Here's one that I've just done in," I heard M'Crone shout, looking approvingly at a dead German. "That's five of the bloody94 swine now."
M'Crone's mother never sends her son any money lest he gets into the evil habit of smoking cigarettes. He is of a religious turn of mind and delights in singing hymns95, his favourite being, "There is a green hill far away." I never heard him swear before, but at Loos his language would make a navvy in a Saturday night taproom green with envy.[85] M'Crone was not lacking in courage. I have seen him wait for death with untroubled front in a shell-harried trench, and now, inflicting96 pain on others, he was a fiend personified; such transformations97 are of common occurrence on the field of honour.
The German trench had suffered severely98 from our fire; parapets were blown in, and at places the trench was full to the level of the ground with sandbags and earth. Wreckage99 was strewn all over the place, rifles, twisted distortions of shapeless metal, caught by high-velocity shells, machine guns smashed to atoms, bomb-proof shelters broken to pieces like houses of cards; giants had been at work of destruction in a delicately fashioned nursery.
On the reverse slope of the parapet broken tins, rusty100 swords, muddy equipments, wicked-looking coils of barbed wire, and discarded articles of clothing were scattered101 about pell-mell. I noticed an unexploded shell perched on a sandbag, cocking a perky nose in air, and beside it was a battered102 helmet, the brass103 glory of its regal eagle dimmed with trench mud and wrecked104 with many a bullet....
I had a clear personal impression of man's ingenuity105 for destruction when my eyes looked on the German front line where our dead lay in peace with their fallen enemies on the[86] parapet. At the bottom of the trench the dead lay thick, and our boys, engaged in building a new parapet, were heaping the sandbags on the dead men and consolidating106 the captured position.
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1
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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7
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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9
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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13
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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alignment
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| n.队列；结盟，联合 | |
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dribbling
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| n.（燃料或油从系统内）漏泄v.流口水( dribble的现在分词 )；（使液体）滴下或作细流；运球，带球 | |
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17
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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hangers
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| n.衣架( hanger的名词复数 )；挂耳 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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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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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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burrowed
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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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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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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53
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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54
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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56
permeated
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| 弥漫( permeate的过去式和过去分词 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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pate
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| n.头顶；光顶 | |
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58
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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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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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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entanglements
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| n.瓜葛( entanglement的名词复数 )；牵连；纠缠；缠住 | |
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entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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erratically
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| adv.不规律地，不定地 | |
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harrying
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| v.使苦恼( harry的现在分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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clotted
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| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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84
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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blurry
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| adj.模糊的；污脏的，污斑的 | |
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wrangling
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| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的现在分词 ) | |
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appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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capers
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| n.开玩笑( caper的名词复数 )；刺山柑v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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transformations
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| n.变化( transformation的名词复数 )；转换；转换；变换 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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101
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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102
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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103
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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104
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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105
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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106
consolidating
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| v.（使）巩固， （使）加强( consolidate的现在分词 )；（使）合并 | |
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