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 peered, puffing a point of red; Candles and braziers glinted through the chinks And curtain-flaps of dug-outs; then the gloom Swallowed his sense of sight; he stooped and swore Because a sagging wire had caught his neck. A flare went up; the shining whiteness spread And flickered upward, showing nimble rats And mounds of glimmering sand-bags, bleached with rain; Then the slow silver moment died in dark. The wind came posting by with chilly gusts And buffeting at the corners, piping thin. And dreary through the crannies; rifle-shots Would split and crack and sing along the night, And shells came calmly through the drizzling air To burst with hollow bang below the hill. Three hours ago, he stumbled up the trench; Now he will never walk that road again: He must be carried back, a jolting lump Beyond all needs of tenderness and care. He was a young man with a meagre wife And two small children in a Midland town, He showed their photographs to all his mates, And they considered him a decent chap Who did his work and hadn't much to say, And always laughed at other people's jokes Because he hadn't any of his own. That night when he was busy at his job Of piling bags along the parapet, He thought how slow time went, stamping his feet And blowing on his fingers, pinched with cold. He thought of getting back by half-past twelve, And tot of rum to send him warm to sleep In draughty dug-out frowsty with the fumes Of coke, and full of snoring weary men. He pushed another bag along the top, Craning his body outward; then a flare Gave one white glimpse of No Man's Land and wire; And as he dropped his head the instant split His startled life with lead, and all went out. Siegfried Sassoon |
Analysis
Siegfried Sassoon’s well-known war poem “A working Party” is written first hand during World War I. The poem helps us to understand the seriousness of war and that the war isn’t ‘glorious’. Throughout the poem we are told about an Englishman’s wartime experience, the harsh conditions in which he had to live and work. Sassoon leads us to believe that there is nothing ‘good’ about war. Throughout the poem, there are a few themes to be acknowledged; the main theme however, is that we should recognise the soldiers work for the country that has led us to the life we have today. This poem accentuates the hardship and loss the soldiers went through each and everyday. In the first stanza we are shown the uncertainty of a man making his way along a trench. "Sliding and poising, groping with his boots,’ tells us how hard it is for him trying to balance, and also the repetition of the "ing” gives a feeling of time going on and on. Raining plus the added factor of dark and cold conditions makes it hard, as the trenches weren't very well built, the mud was unbearable, "splashing wretchedly where the sludge was ankle deep”. When voices ordered the men to "make way,” it is said the "voices would grunt.” The poet then describes the cramped conditions, men had to "squeeze past”, and how they found it hard to see, they were said to be “peer”. The use of alliteration helps describe the hardship of the soldier “peered, puffing a point of red” and “swallowed his sense of sight; he stooped and swore”. Line 15 explains the soldier had caught a sagging wire around his neck. The third Stanza, is a short one and simply explains to the readers through imagery that a ‘flare went up and spread upward showing the active, alive rats and mounds of glimmering sand-bags’. Sassoon then goes on to use onomatopoeia to show the ‘wind coming by with chilly gusts’ ‘hitting the corners repeatedly’. Onomatopoeia is used again when the ‘split and crack’ explains the rifle shots occurring all night and the ‘bang’ as the shells come calmly through the air. Onomatopoeia helps the readers interpret life as a soldier, the gory, hard and unglamorous life. The next stanza analyses a slow death for a soldier, from the line “now he will never walk that road again” we can tell he is dying. Line 29 suggests again he is nearing the end as he ‘is beyond all tenderness and care’. Imagery helps us to have a visual picture of the characters. The poet describes the soldier ‘young man with a meager wife and two small children... he showed their photographs to all his mates’ the particular wording in this stanza helps us to connect with a soldier and feel sympathy towards the man, seeing him as kind and compassionate, with a long life a head of him. The 7th stanza uses imagery again to set the scene of ‘piling bags along the parapet’. The poet uses words such as ‘he thought how slow time went…blowing on his fingers, pinched with cold’ to suggest how horrible war really was. Imagery and alliteration is used together to create a inglorious picture ‘tot of rum to send him to sleep… In draughty dug-out frowsty with the fumes Of coke, and full of snoring weary men.’ In the final stanza, the poet reveals the final moments of the soldier’s short life. Using imagery again ‘craning his body outward, then a flare Gave one white glimpse of No Man’s Land and wire’. We can really see the horrid of war, Siegfried tells us brutally how war was for many young soldiers. |