Siegfried Sassoon, "Break of Day"

Break of DayThere seemed a smell of autumn in the air At the bleak end of night; he shivered there In a dank, musty dug-out where he lay, Legs wrapped in sand-bags,--lumps of chalk and clay Spattering his face. Dry-mouthed, he thought, 'To-day We start the damned attack; and, Lord knows why, Zero's at nine; how bloody if I'm done in Under the freedom of that morning sky!' And then