Wirers by Siegfried Sassoon
â€˜Pass it along, the wiring partyâ€™s going outâ€™â€”
And yawning sentries mumble, â€˜Wirers going out.â€™
Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud,
They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood.
The Boche sends up a flare. Black forms stand rigid there,
Stock-still like posts; then darkness, and the clumsy ghosts
Stride hither and thither, whispering, tripped by clutching snare
Of snags and tangles.
Ghastly dawn with vaporous coasts
Gleams desolate along the sky, nightâ€™s misery ended.
Young Hughes was badly hit; I heard him carried away,
Moaning at every lurch; no doubt heâ€™ll die to-day.
But we can say the front-line wireâ€™s been safely mended.