This page has been validated.
XXX
The Rear-guard
(Hindenburg Line, April 1917)
GROPING along the tunnel step by step,
He winked his prying torch with patching glare
From side to side, and sniffed the unwholesome air.
Tins, bottles, boxes, shapes too vague to know,—
A mirror smashed, the mattress from a bed;
And he, exploring, fifty feet below
The rosy gloom of battle overhead.
Tripping, he grabbed the wall; saw some one lie
Humped and asleep, half-hidden by a rug;
And stooped to give the sleeper's arm a tug.
"I'm looking for Headquarters."
No reply. . . .
"God blast your neck" (for days he'd had no sleep),
"Get up and guide me through this stinking place."
Then, with a savage kick at the silent heap,
He flashed his beam across a livid face
68
