This poem is by the Erno Muller and is written from the German perspective. I came across it at college where we compared it with Wilfred’s Owen “Dulce et Decorum est".
It captures the intense reality faced by the common soldier.
Assault
Gas!
faces turned,
eyes scanned the sky,
hands feverishly ripped open canisters,
and masks were soon covering faces.
A man choked
as the white cloud,
swirling round him like fog, caught him
unawares.
Then his body flopped over.
Shells floated across
as if suspended by hidden strings,
and then, tired,
they sank earthwards.
A command!
Like a cold shower
To revive the mumbling shadows.
I fixed my bayonet,
scrambled over the open trench
and struggled through
the thick pasty mud.
It was quiet
as we walked
except for the sucking,
groaning, squelching sound
which came from the wet earth
as it tried
to creep into our stockings.
The wind cut me.
with the skill of an executioner
as it came roaring down the ridge
towards which we were marching
over the wall!
Then a whistle.
‘Good luck, mates.’
Mind that hole. Through the wire.
Over the top.
And kill.
‘God. This is fun!’
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