THE SENTRY by WILFRED OWEN
We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew, And gave us hell; for shell on frantic shell Lit full on top, but never quite burst through. Rain, guttering down in waterfalls of slime, Kept slush waist-high and rising hour by hour, And choked the steps too thick with clay to climb. What murk of air remained stank old, and sour With fumes from whizz-bangs, and the smell of men Who'd lived there years, and left their curse in the den, If not their corpses... There we herded from the blast Of whizz-bangs; but one found our door at last,--- Buffeting eyes and breath, snuffing the candles, And thud! flump! thud! down the steep steps came thumping And sploshing in the flood, deluging muck, The sentry's body; then his rifle, handles Of old Boche bombs, and mud in ruck on ruck. We dredged it up, for dead, until he whined, 'O sir---my eyes,---I'm blind,---I'm blind,---I'm blind.' Coaxing, I held a flame against his lids And said if he could see the least blurred light He was not blind; in time they'd get all right 'I can't,' he sobbed. Eyeballs, huge-bulged like squids', Watch my dreams still,---yet I forgot him there In posting Next for duty, and sending a scout To beg a stretcher somewhere, and flound' ring about To other posts under the shrieking air.
Those other wretches, how they bled and spewed, And one who would have drowned himself for good,--- I try not to remember these things now. Let Dread hark back for one word only: how, Half-listening to that sentry's moans and jumps, And the wild chattering of his shivered teeth, Renewed most horribly whenever crumps Pummelled the roof and slogged the air beneath,--- Through the dense din, I say, we heard him shout 'I see your lights!'---But ours had long gone out.
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|Author||Owen, Wilfred (1893-1918)|
|Copyright||The Estate of Wilfred Owen. The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen edited by Jon Stallworthy first published by Chatto Windus, 1983. Preliminaries, introductory, editorial matter, manuscripts and fragments omitted.|
|First line||We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew,|
|Publication source||The Complete Poems and Fragments of Wilfred Owen|
|Publication editor||Stallworthy, Jon|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|