Methodist Church (Great Britain) -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
The command to go over came at length, and I heard a cheer pass down
the line. It sounded strangely amid the booming of the guns, and the
voices of the men seemed small. All the same, it was hearty and
confident. Many of them, I knew, would have a sense of relief at
getting out into the open, and feel that they were no longer like
rabbits in their burrows. Helter, skelter, we went across the open
ground, some carelessly and indifferently, others with stern, set
faces. Here one cracked a joke with his pal, while there another
stopped suddenly, staggered, and fell.
The ground, I remember, was flat just there, and I could see a long way
down the line, men struggling across the open space. There was no
suggestion of military precision, that is in the ordinary sense of the
word, yet in another there was. Each man was ready, and each man had
that strange light in his eyes which no pen can describe.
We took the first trench without difficulty. The few Germans who
remained were dazed, bewildered, and eager to surrender. They came up
out of their dug-outs, their arms uplifted, piteously crying for mercy.
'All right, Fritz, old cock, we won't hurt you! You don't deserve it.
But there, I suppose you had to do what you was told.'
Now and then, however, no mercy was shown. Many of the machine-gunners
held up one hand, and cried for mercy, while with the other they worked
the guns. However, the first line of trenches was taken, a great many
prisoners captured, and then came the more difficult and dangerous
business. The second line must be taken as well as the first, and the
second line was our objective.
By this time we did not know where we were, and we were so mixed up
that we didn't know to what battalion or regiment we belonged. In the
gigantic struggle, extending for miles, there was no possibility of
keeping together. The one thing was to drive the Germans out of the
second line of trenches, or better still to make them prisoners. But
every inch of ground became more dangerous. German shells were blowing
up the ground around us, and decimating our advancing forces.
It was here that I thought my number was up. A shell exploded a few
yards from me, shook the ground under my feet, threw me into the air,
and half buried me in the _debris_. It was one of those moments when
it seemed as though every man was for himself, and when, in the mad
carnage, it was impossible to realize what had happened to each other.
I was stunned by the explosion, and how long I lay in that condition I
don't know.
When I became conscious, I felt as though my head were going to burst,
while a sense of helplessness possessed me. Then I realized that,
while my legs were buried, my head was in the open. Painfully and with
difficulty I extricated myself, and then, scarcely realizing what I was
doing, I staggered along in the direction in which I thought my boys
had gone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account