The beating of the guns grows louder. “Not long, boys, now.” My heart burns whiter, fearfuller, prouder. Hurricanes grow
As guns redouble their fire. Through the shaken periscope peeping, I glimpse their wire: Black earth, fountains of earth rise, leaping,
Spouting like shocks of meeting waves. Death's fountains are playing. Shells like shrieking birds rush over; Crash and din rises higher.
A stream of lead raves Over us from the left... ( we safe under cover! ) Crash! Reverberation! Crash! Acrid smoke billowing. Flash upon flash.
Black smoke drifting. The German line Vanishes in confusion, smoke. Cries, and cry Of our men, “Gah, yer swine! Ye're for it” die
In a hurricane of shell. One cry: “We're comin’ soon! look out!” There is opened hell
Over there; fragments fly, Rifles and bits of men whirled at the sky: Dust, smoke, thunder! A sudden bout Of machine guns chattering....
And redoubled battering, As if in fury at their daring!... No good staring. Time soon now... home... house on a sunny hill....
Gone like a flickered page: Time soon now... zero... will engage.... A sudden thrill — “Fix bayonets!”
Gods! we have our fill Of fear, hysteria, exultation, rage, Rage to kill. My heart burns hot, whiter and whiter,
Contracts tighter and tighter, Until I stifle with the will Long forged, now used ( Though utterly strained ) —
O pounding heart, Baffled, confused, Heart panged, head singing, dizzily pained — To do my part.
Blindness a moment. Sick. There the men are! Bayonets ready: click! Time goes quick;
A stumbled prayer... somehow a blazing star In a blue night... where? Again prayer. The tongue trips. Start:
How's time? Soon now. Two minutes or less. The gun's fury mounting higher.... Their utmost. I lift a silent hand. Unseen I bless Those hearts will follow me.
And beautifully, Now beautifully my will grips. Soul calm and round and filmed and white! A shout: “Men, no such order as retire”
I nod. The whistle's‘ twixt my lips.... I catch A wan, worn smile at me.
Dear men! The pale wrist-watch.... The quiet hand ticks on amid the din. The guns again
Rise to a last fury, to a rage, a lust: Kill! Pound! Kill! Pound! Pound! Now comes the thrust! My part... dizziness... will... but trust
These men. The great guns rise; Their fury seems to burst the earth and skies! They lift. Gather, heart, all thoughts that drift;
Be steel, soul, Compress thyself Into a round, bright whole. I cannot speak.
Time. Time! I hear my whistle shriek, Between teeth set; I fling an arm up,
Scramble up the grime Over the parapet! I'm up. Go on. Something meets us.
Head down into the storm that greets us. A wail. Lights. Blurr. Gone.
On, on. Le d. Le d. Hail. Spatter. Whirr! Whirr! “Toward that patch of brown; Direction left.” Bullets a stream.
Devouring thought crying in a dream. Men, crumpled, going down.... Go on. Go. Deafness. Numbness. The loudening tornado.
Bullets. Mud. Stumbling and skating. My voice's strangled shout: “Steady pace, boys!” The still light: gladness.
“Look, sir. Look out!” Ha! ha! Bunched figures waiting. Revolver levelled quick! Flick! Flick!
Red as blood. Germans. Germans. Good! O good! Cool madness.
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