with a keen sense of observation, bringing to life the sights, sounds, smells, and horrors of war. The anonymous author candidly describes his daily life: dodging shells to fetch meals from the rations cart; his regiment lost on a march, straying perilously near enemy lines; the selfishness of his commanding officer; the daily distribution of rum; the soar of shells ('whiz bangs') above his head, communicating by sign with a captured German soldier living in his trench; catching sleep in snatches 10 or fifteen minutes; and always, the endless mud. He begins understatedly: 'The first night passed uneventfully, except that we were shelled, ' describing his journey to the front: 'It was nothing unusual to come across a dead horse sometimes two with great holes in their sides caused by shells

Hide more