“A Working Party,” Siegfried Sassoon

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A Working Party

Three hours ago he blundered up the trench,

Sliding and poising, groping with his boots;

Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the walls

With hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk.

He couldn’t see the man who walked in front;

Only he heard the drum and rattle of feet

Stepping along barred trench boards, often splashing

Wretchedly where the sludge was ankle-deep.

Voices would grunt ‘Keep to your right–make way!’

When squeezing past some men from the front-line:

White faces pe...