In the poem, the speaker recounts marching while carrying the weight of a heavy pack, so heavy it nearly bent him in half. Cold, coughing, and cursing, the men would trudge through sludge until they felt as though they were falling asleep as they walked. Often, they'd lose their boots in the muck, but they had to keep going though their feet were bloodied. They were utterly exhausted.
The speaker recalls one time that the...
In the poem, the speaker recounts marching while carrying the weight of a heavy pack, so heavy it nearly bent him in half. Cold, coughing, and cursing, the men would trudge through sludge until they felt as though they were falling asleep as they walked. Often, they'd lose their boots in the muck, but they had to keep going though their feet were bloodied. They were utterly exhausted.
The speaker recalls one time that the enemy dropped chlorine gas on them, and everyone struggled to fit their gas masks on, but one man didn't get his in place fast enough. The gas burned his lungs and he began to die, which the narrator could see through the misty panes of his gas mask. The speaker dreams about that man, the way he stumbled toward the speaker, choking on the froth coming up from his lungs. They put his body in a wagon, where the speaker could see his face as the men walked behind -- it would take some while for this man to die, and meanwhile he would be in terrible pain -- his eyes rolling, his mouth gargling. This is what the speaker remembers of war.
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