"There's a battery snug1 in the spinney,
A French 'seventy-five' in the mine,
A big 'nine-point-two' in the village,
Three miles to the rear of the line.
The gunners will clean them at dawning,
And slumber2 beside them all day,
But the guns chant a chorus at sunset,
And then you should hear what they say."
The hour was one o'clock in the afternoon, and a slight rain was now falling. A dug-out in the bay leant wearily forward on its props3; the floor of the trench4, foul5 with blood and accumulated dirt, showed a weary face to the sky. A breeze had sprung up, and the watcher who looked over the parapet was met in the face with a soft, wet gust6 laden7 with rain swept off the grassy8 spot in front.... A gaunt willow9 peeped over the sandbags and looked timorously10 down at us. All the sandbags were perforated by machine-gun fire, a new gun was hidden on the rise on our right, but none of our observers could locate its position. On the evening before it had accounted[150] for eighty-seven casualties; from the door of a house in Loos I had seen our men, who had attempted to cross the street, wiped out like flies.
Very heavy fighting had been going on in the front line to the east of Hill 70 all through the morning. Several bomb attacks were made by the enemy, and all were repulsed12. For the men in the front line trench the time was very trying. They had been subject to continual bomb attacks since the morning before.
"'Ow long 'ave we been 'ere?" asked Bill Teake, as he removed a clot13 of dirt from the foresight14 guard of his rifle. "I've lost all count of time."
"Not such a length of time," I told him.
"Time's long a-passin' 'ere," said Bill, leaning his head against the muddy parados. "Gawd, I'd like to be back in Les Brebis drinkin' beer, or 'avin' a bit of a kip for a change. When I go back to blighty I'll go to bed and I'll not get up for umpty-eleven months."
"We may get relieved to-morrow night," I said.
"To-morrow'll be another day nearer the day we get relieved, any'ow," said Bill sarcastically15. "And another day nearer the end of the war," he added.
"I'm sick of it," he muttered, after a short[151] silence. "I wish the damned war was blurry16 well finished. It gives me the pip. Curse the war! Curse everyone and everything! If the Alleymongs would come over now, I'd not lift my blurry 'ipe. I'd surrender; that's wot I'd do. Curse.... Damn.... Blast...."
I slipped to the wet floor of the trench asleep and lay there, only to awaken17 ten minutes later. I awoke with a start; somebody jumping over the parapet had planted his feet on my stomach. I rose from the soft earth and looked round. A kilted soldier was standing18 in the trench, an awkward smile on his face and one of his knees bleeding. Bill, who was awake, was gazing at the kiltie with wide open eyes.
The machine gun was speaking from the enemy's line, a shrewish tang in its voice, and little spurts19 of dirt flicked20 from our sandbags shot into the trench.
Bill's eyes looked so large that they surprised me; I had never seen him look in such a way before. What was happening? Several soldiers belonging to strange regiments21 were in our trench now; they were jumping over the parapet in from the open. One man I noticed was a nigger in khaki....
"They're all from the front trench," said Bill in a whisper of mysterious significance,[152] and a disagreeable sensation stirred in my being.
"That means," I said, and paused.
"It means that the Allemongs are gettin' the best of it," said Bill, displaying an unusual interest in the action of his rifle. "They say the 21st and 24th Division are retreating from 'Ill 70. Too 'ot up there. It's goin' to be a blurry row 'ere," he muttered. "But we're goin' to stick 'ere, wotever 'appens. No damned runnin' away with us!"
The trench was now crowded with strangers, and others were coming in. The field in front of our line was covered with figures running towards us. Some crouched23 as they ran, some tottered24 and fell; three or four crawled on their bellies25, and many dropped down and lay where they fell.
The machine gun swept the field, and a vicious hail of shrapnel swept impartially26 over the quick, the wounded and the dead. A man raced up to the parapet which curved the bay in which I stood, a look of terror on his face. There he stood a moment, a timorous11 foot on a sandbag, calculating the distance of the jump.... He dropped in, a bullet wound showing on the back of his tunic27, and lay prostrate28, face upwards29 on the floor of the trench. A second man jumped in on the face of the stricken man.
I hastened to help, but the newcomers[153] pressed forward and pushed me along the trench. No heed30 was taken of the wounded man.
"Back! get back!" yelled a chorus of voices. "We've got to retire."
"'Oo the blurry 'ell said that?" I heard Bill Teake thunder. "If ye're not goin' to fight, get out of this 'ere place and die in the fields. Runnin' away, yer blasted cowards!"
No one seemed to heed him. The cry of "Back! back!" redoubled in violence. "We've got orders to retire! We must get back at once!" was the shout. "Make way there, let us get by."
It was almost impossible to stem the tide which swept up the trench towards Loos Road where the road leaves the village. I had a fleeting31 glimpse of one of our men rising on the fire position and gazing over the parapet. Even as he looked a bullet hit him in the face, and he dropped back, clawing at the air with his fingers.... Men still crowded in from the front, jumping on the struggling crush in the trench.... In front of me was a stranger, and in front of him was Rifleman Pryor, trying to press back against the oncoming men. A bullet ricochetted off a sandbag and hit the stranger on the shoulder and he fell face downwards32 to the floor. I bent33 to lift the wounded fellow and got pushed on top of him.
[154]
"Can you help him?" Pryor asked.
"If you can keep the crowd back," I muttered, getting to my feet and endeavouring to raise the fallen man.
Pryor pulled a revolver from his pocket, levelled it at the man behind me and shouted:
"If you come another step further I'll put a bullet through your head."
This sobered the soldier at the rear, who steadied himself by placing his hand against the traverse. Then he called to those who followed, "Get back! there's a wounded man on the floor of the trench."
A momentary34 halt ensued. Pryor and I gripped the wounded man, raised him on the parapet and pushed him into a shell-hole behind the sandbags. Lying flat on the ground up there I dressed the man's wounds. Pryor sat beside me, fully35 exposed to the enemy's fire, his revolver in his hand.
"Down, Pryor," I said several times. "You'll get hit."
"Oh, my time hasn't come yet," he said. "I'll not be done in this time, anyway. Fighting is going on in the front trench yet, and dozens of men are racing36 this way. Many of them are falling. I think some of our boys are firing at them, mistaking them for Germans.... Here's our colonel coming along the trench."
[155]
The colonel was in the trench when I got back there, exhorting37 his men to stand and make a fight of it. "Keep your backs to the walls, boys," he said, "and fight to the last."
The Irish had their back to the wall, no man deserted38 his post. The regiment22 at the moment was the backbone39 of the Loos front; if the boys wavered and broke the thousands of lives that were given to make the victory of Loos would have been lost in vain. Intrepid40 little Bill Teake, who was going to surrender to the first German whom he met, stood on the banquette, his jaw41 thrust forward determinedly42 and the light of battle in his eyes. Now and again he turned round and apostrophised the soldiers who had fallen back from the front line.
"Runnin' away!" he yelled. "Ugh! Get back again and make a fight of it. Go for the Allemongs just like you's go for rum rations43."
The machine gun on the hill peppered Loos Road and dozens dropped there. The trench crossing the road was not more than a few feet deep at any time, and a wagon44 which had fallen in when crossing a hastily-constructed bridge the night before, now blocked the way. To pass across the men had to get up on the road, and here the machine gun found them; and all round[156] the wagon bleeding bodies were lying three deep.
A young officer of the —— Regiment, whose men were carried away in the stampede, stood on the road with a Webley revolver in his hand and tried to urge his followers45 back to the front trench. "It's all a mistake," he shouted. "The Germans did not advance. The order to retire was a false one. Back again; boys, get back. Now, get back for the regiment's sake. If you don't we'll be branded with shame. Come now, make a stand and I'll lead you back again."
Almost simultaneously46 a dozen bullets hit him and he fell, his revolver still in his hand. Bill Teake procured47 the revolver at dusk....
Our guns came suddenly into play and a hell-riot of artillery48 broke forth49. Guns of all calibres were brought into work, and all spoke50 earnestly, madly, the 4·2's in the emplacement immediately to rear, the 9·2's back at Maroc, and our big giants, the caterpillar51 howitzers, away behind further still. Gigantic shells swung over our heads, laughing, moaning, whistling, hooting52, yelling. We could see them passing high up in air, looking for all the world like beer bottles flung from a juggler's hand. The messengers of death came from everywhere and seemed to be everywhere.
The spinney on the spur was churned,[157] shivered, blown to pieces. Trees uprooted53 rose twenty yards in the air, paused for a moment to take a look round, as it were, when at the zenith of their flight, then sank slowly, lazily to earth as if selecting a spot to rest upon. Two red-brick cottages with terra-cotta tiles which snuggled amidst the trees were struck simultaneously, and they went up in little pieces, save where one rafter rose hurriedly over the smoke and swayed, a clearly defined black line, in mid-air. Coming down abruptly54 it found a resting place on the branches of the trees. One of the cottages held a German gun and gunners.... Smoke, dust, lyddite fumes55 robed the autumn-tinted trees on the crest56, the concussion57 shells burst into lurid58 flame, the shrapnel shells puffed59 high in air, and their white, ghostly smoke paled into the overcast60 heavens.
The retreat was stopped for a moment. The —— Regiment recovered its nerve and fifty or sixty men rushed back. Our boys cheered.... But the renewed vitality61 was short-lived. A hail of shrapnel caught the party in the field and many of them fell. The nigger whom I had noticed earlier came running back, his teeth chattering62, and flung himself into the trench. He lay on the floor and refused to move until Bill Teake gave him a playful prod63 with a bayonet. Our guns now spoke boisterously64, and the German[158] trenches65 on the hill were being blown to little pieces. Dug-outs were rioting, piecemeal66, in air, parapets were crumbling67 hurriedly in and burying the men in the trench, bombs spun68 lazily in air, and the big caterpillar howitzers flung their projectiles69 across with a loud whoop70 of tumult71. Our thousand and one guns were bellowing72 their terrible anthem73 of hate.
Pryor stood on the fire-step, his bayonet in one hand, an open tin of bully-beef in the other.
"There's no damned attack on at all," he said. "A fresh English regiment came up and the —— got orders to retire for a few hundred yards to make way for them. Then there was some confusion, a telephone wire got broken, the retirement74 became a retreat. A strategic retreat, of course," said Pryor sarcastically, and pointed75 at the broken wagon on the Loos Road. "A strategic retreat," he muttered, and munched76 a piece of beef which he lifted from the tin with his fingers.
The spinney on which we had gazed so often now retained its unity77 no longer, the brick houses were gone; the lyddite clouds took on strange forms amidst the greenery, glided78 towards one another in a graceful79 waltz, bowed, touched tips, retired80 and paled away weary as it seemed of their fantastic[159] dance. Other smoke bands of ashen81 hue82 intermixed with ragged83, bilious-yellow fragments of cloud rose in the air and disappeared in the leaden atmosphere. Little wisps of vapour like feathers of some gigantic bird detached themselves from the horrible, diffused84 glare of bursting explosives, floated towards our parapet, and the fumes of poisonous gases caused us to gasp85 for breath. The shapelessness of Destruction reigned86 on the hill, a fitting accompaniment to the background of cloudy sky, dull, dark and wan87.
Strange contrasts were evoked88 on the crest, monstrous89 heads rose over the spinney, elephants bearing ships, Vikings, bearded and savage90, beings grotesque91 and gigantic took shape in the smoke and lyddite fumes.
The terrible assault continued without truce92, interruption or respite93; our guns scattered94 broadcast with prodigal95 indifference96 their apparently97 inexhaustible resources of murder and terror. The essence of the bombardment was in the furious succession of its blows. In the clamour and tumult was the crash and uproar98 of a vast bubbling cauldron forged and heated by the gods in ungodly fury.
The enemy would reply presently. Through the uproar I could hear the premonitory whispering of his guns regulating their range[160] and feeling for an objective. A concussion shell whistled across the traverse in which I stood and in futile99 rage dashed itself to pieces on the level field behind. Another followed, crying like a child in pain, and finished its short, drunken career by burrowing100 into the red clay of the parados where it failed to explode. It passed close to my head, and fear went down into the innermost parts of me and held me for a moment.... A dozen shells passed over in the next few moments, rushing ahead as if they were pursued by something terrible, and burst in the open a hundred yards away. Then a livid flash lit a near dug-out; lumps of earth, a dozen beams and several sandbags changed their locality, and a man was killed by concussion. When the body was examined no trace of a wound could be seen. Up the street of Loos was a clatter101 and tumult. A house was flung to earth, making a noise like a statue falling downstairs in a giant's castle; iron girders at the coal-mine were wrenched102 and tortured, and the churchyard that bordered our trench had the remnants of its headstones flung about and its oft muddled103 graves dug anew by the shells.
The temporary bridge across the trench where it intersected the road, made the night before to allow ammunition104 limbers to pass,[161] was blown sky high, and two men who sheltered under it were killed. Earth, splinters of wood and bits of masonry105 were flung into the trench, and it was wise on our part to lie on the floor or press close to the parapet. One man, who was chattering a little, tried to sing, but became silent when a comrade advised him "to hold his row; if the Germans heard the noise they might begin shelling."
The gods were thundering. At times the sound dwarfed106 me into such infinitesimal littleness that a feeling of security was engendered107. In the midst of such an uproar and tumult, I thought that the gods, bent though they were upon destruction, would leave such a little atom as myself untouched. This for a while would give me a self-satisfying confidence in my own invulnerability.
At other times my being swelled108 to the grand chorus. I was one with it, at home in thunder. I accommodated myself to the Olympian uproar and shared in a play that would have delighted Jove and Mars. I had got beyond that mean where the soul of a man swings like a pendulum109 from fear to indifference, and from indifference to fear. In danger I am never indifferent, but I find that I can readily adapt myself to the moods and tempers of my environment. But all men have some restraining influence to help[162] them in hours of trial, some principle or some illusion. Duty, patriotism110, vanity, and dreams come to the help of men in the trenches, all illusions probably, ephemeral and fleeting; but for a man who is as ephemeral and fleeting as his illusions are, he can lay his back against them and defy death and the terrors of the world. But let him for a moment stand naked and look at the staring reality of the terrors that engirt him and he becomes a raving111 lunatic.
The cannonade raged for three hours, then ceased with the suddenness of a stone falling to earth, and the ordeal112 was over.
As the artillery quietened the men who had just come into our trench plucked up courage again and took their way back to the front line of trenches, keeping well under the cover of the houses in Loos. In twenty minutes' time we were left to ourselves, nothing remained of those who had come our way save their wounded and their dead; the former we dressed and carried into the dressing-station, the latter we buried when night fell.
The evening came, and the greyish light of the setting sun paled away in a western sky, leaden-hued and dull. The dead men lying out in the open became indistinguishable in the gathering113 darkness. A deep silence settled over the village, the roadway[163] and trench, and with the quiet came fear. I held my breath. What menace did the dark world contain? What threat did the ghostly star-shells, rising in air behind the Twin Towers, breathe of? Men, like ghosts, stood on the banquettes waiting, it seemed, for something to take place. There was no talking, no laughter. The braziers were still unlit, and the men had not eaten for many hours. But none set about to prepare a meal. It seemed as if all were afraid to move lest the least noise should awake the slumbering114 Furies. The gods were asleep and it was unwise to disturb them....
A limber clattered115 up the road and rations were dumped down at the corner of the village street.
"I 'ope they've brought the rum," somebody remarked, and we all laughed boisterously. The spell was broken, and already my mate, Bill Teake, had applied116 a match to a brazier and a little flame glowed at the corner of a traverse. Now was the moment to cook the hen which he had shot that morning.
As he bent over his work, someone coming along the trench stumbled against him, and nearly threw Bill into the fire.
"'Oo the blurry 'ell is that shovin' about," spluttered Teake, rubbing the smoke from his eyes and not looking round.
"It's the blurry Colonel of the London[164] Irish," a voice replied, and Bill shot up to attention and saluted117 his commanding officer.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said.
"It's all right," said the officer. "If I was in your place, I might have said worse things."
Bill recounted the incident afterwards and concluded by saying, "'E's a fine bloke, 'e is, our C.O. I'd do anythink for him now."
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1
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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2
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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3
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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4
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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5
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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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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7
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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8
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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9
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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10
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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11
timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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12
repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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13
clot
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| n.凝块；v.使凝成块 | |
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14
foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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15
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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16
blurry
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| adj.模糊的；污脏的，污斑的 | |
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17
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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18
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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19
spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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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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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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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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23
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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25
bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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26
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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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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29
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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30
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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31
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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32
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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34
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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37
exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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38
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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39
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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40
intrepid
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| adj.无畏的，刚毅的 | |
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41
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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42
determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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43
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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44
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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45
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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46
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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47
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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48
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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49
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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50
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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51
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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52
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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53
uprooted
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| v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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54
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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55
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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56
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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57
concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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58
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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59
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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60
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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61
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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62
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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63
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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65
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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67
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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68
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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69
projectiles
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| n.抛射体( projectile的名词复数 )；（炮弹、子弹等）射弹，（火箭等）自动推进的武器 | |
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70
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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71
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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72
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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73
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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74
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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munched
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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82
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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83
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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85
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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87
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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89
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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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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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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96
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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97
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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98
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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99
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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100
burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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101
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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102
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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103
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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104
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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105
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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106
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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107
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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109
pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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110
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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111
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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112
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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113
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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114
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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115
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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116
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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117
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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