Robert H. Beck
Nine-Thirty o’clock? Then over the top,
And mind to keep down when you see the flare
Of Very pistol searching the air.
Now, over you get; look out for the wire
In the borrow pit, and the empty tins,
They are meant for the Hun to bark his shins.
So keep well down and reserve your fire–
All over? Right: there’s a gap just here
In the corkscrew wire, so just follow me;
If you keep well down there’s nothing to fear.
. . . . . . . . .
Then out we creep thro’ the gathering gloom
Of NO MAN’S LAND, while the big guns boom
Right over our heads, and the rapid crack
Of the Lewis guns is answered back
By the German barking the same refrain
Of crack, crack, crack, all over again.
To the wistful eye from the parapet,
In the smiling sun of a summer’s day,
‘Twere a sin to believe that a bloody death
In those waving grasses lurking lay.
But now, ‘neath the Very’s fitful flares
“Keep still, my lads, and freeze like hares;–
All right, carry on, for we’re out to enquire
If our friend the Hun’s got a gap in his wire;
And he hasn’t invited us out, you see,
So lift up your feet and follow me.”
. . . . . . . . .
Then, silent, we press with a noiseless tread
Thro’ no man’s land, but the sightless dead;
Aye, muffle your footsteps, well ye may,
For the mouldering corpses here decay
Whom no man owns but the King abhorred,
Grim Pluto, Stygia’s over-lord.
Oh breathe a prayer for the sightless Dead
Who have bitten the dust ‘neath the biting lead
Of the pitiless hail of the Maxim’s fire,
‘Neath the wash of shell in the well trod mire.
Ah well! But we’ve, too, got a job to be done,
For we’ve come to the wire of our friend, the Hun.
“Now, keep well down, lads; can you see any gap?”
. . . . . . . . .
Not much, well the reference is wrong in the map”
So homeward we go thro’ the friendly night.
That covers the NO MAN’S LAND from sight,
As muttering a noiseless prayer of praise,
We drop from the parapet into the bays.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem takes the reader into the trenches of World War I, offering a vivid, gritty snapshot of the daily experience of soldiers on the frontlines. Through its language and structure, the poem conveys the tension, fear, and numbness that come with combat, as well as the casual, almost mechanical nature of the soldiers’ actions in the midst of it.
The poem begins with a precise, almost clinical description of the routine procedure for going “over the top” — the action of leaving the safety of the trench to venture into “No Man’s Land.” The reference to “Nine-Thirty o’clock” sets the scene in a specific, timed moment, establishing a military precision in the rhythm of war. The soldiers are not asked if they want to go, only told when and how to act. The line “And mind to keep down when you see the flare / Of Very pistol searching the air” sets the tone, as the flare signals imminent danger, highlighting the ever-present threat of death or injury.
The detailed instructions in the first stanza—”look out for the wire in the borrow pit” and “the empty tins, / They are meant for the Hun to bark his shins”—suggests the soldiers are operating like a well-drilled machine, following a familiar, almost rote routine. These details also emphasize the precariousness of their situation: the wire, the tins, and the flare all act as obstacles and warnings in the hellish environment of war. The soldiers are told to “keep well down” and to “reserve your fire,” indicating a need for careful, tactical caution in a deadly landscape where every mistake could be fatal.
In the second stanza, the poem transitions to the action of actually crossing “No Man’s Land.” The “big guns boom” overhead, and the “crack, crack, crack” of the Lewis guns in return emphasize the constant noise of the battlefield, a sensory overload that drowns out all but survival instincts. The line “Aye, muffle your footsteps, well ye may” captures the chilling quietness of the soldiers’ approach, emphasizing that they are, in effect, ghosts moving through the battlefield—silent, unseen, but not untouched by the violence.
The image of “No Man’s Land” as a place of death and decay becomes more vivid as the poem progresses. The soldiers encounter “the sightless dead,” those who have fallen in battle and whose bodies lie forgotten, “mouldering” and “decaying.” The soldiers’ silent passage through this grim place underscores the omnipresence of death and the inevitability of their own mortality. The phrase “Grim Pluto, Stygia’s over-lord” invokes classical mythology, with Pluto being the god of the underworld, suggesting that the soldiers are operating in a world ruled by death. The soldiers’ task is to move past these dead men and complete their own mission, showing that the living must continue, regardless of the carnage around them.
The repeated invocation to “keep well down” and the soldiers’ focus on finding a gap in the enemy’s wire reinforce the tension and purposefulness of the moment. The line “Not much, well the reference is wrong in the map” reveals the frustrating futility of their task. Even in this moment of danger, the soldiers are bound by the mechanics of war: missteps in the map or the failure to find a gap can mean death, but the soldiers carry on, resigned to the necessity of the task at hand.
The poem ends on a weary, almost anticlimactic note: the soldiers return to their trench, “muttering a noiseless prayer of praise” as they go “homeward.” The contrast between the initial tense action of going “over the top” and the quiet, inconspicuous return highlights the emotional numbness and detachment that war breeds. The soldiers have faced death and returned, not with glory or triumph, but with a sense of survival and duty, ready to repeat the cycle.
The poem uses a conversational, almost detached tone, which mirrors the soldiers’ numbed emotional state. The rhythm of the lines is clipped and matter-of-fact, like the soldiers’ thoughts—quick and efficient, but devoid of emotional depth. This reflects the mechanized nature of war: the soldiers move from one task to another with little time or space for personal reflection, driven by the imperative of survival.
Overall, the poem captures the brutal, dehumanizing nature of war, where soldiers are forced to navigate through a landscape of death and destruction. The focus on routine, the casual mention of violence, and the stark imagery of decaying bodies serve to remind the reader of the toll war takes not just on the body, but on the spirit. The poem suggests that in war, survival becomes an instinctual act, carried out with little thought beyond the next objective.