Iniquity - Poets Of The Trench Part Ii Lyrics
I remember sitting in the train.Though it seems ages ago, I figure thatno more than a couple of weeks have elapsed since then.I also remember the thoughts racing in my mind. I'd read that before goinginto battle, even the most ardent veteran soldier feels the pangs of fear,and I wondered why I only felt a sense of numbness in my stomach and legs.Premonition perhaps?During training we'd been told by our senior officers always to keep ourcarbines clean of grime.'Cleansed mine for what might have been the fiftieth time, whilst rollingthrough the French countryside listening to the distant thunder.By then I didn't realise that it was the mellow booming ofthe Germans'heavy artillery, shelling our line. Or, maybe, ours shelling theirs?I'd heard that even if you're dug in, in a shelter, the big howitzerscould get you.In the train I split a cigarette with a guy from back home. This was hissecond trip to the front. He told me how his former company was set to digout a bombed cellar, and how the people they found had been uninjured bythe shrapnel and fire. They had been crushed by the pressure of thedetonation - their lungs had been pushed through their mouths.He also told me to swap my bayonet for a field shovel at anygiven moment."When you're at close quarters, a sharpened field shovel can lob the headoff a mans shoulders. And it won't break or get stuck in the ribs like abayonet." That's what he said.His name is Liam, or was Liam. As I'm writing this, I can hear himscreaming. I can just barely make him out in a crater next to the Germantrench. Horribly entangled in barbwire. He's not screaming for his mom oranything. Just screaming. Maybe his throat has been lacerated. It soundskind of gurgling
