Shaken From Sleep, And Numbed And Scarce Awake, Out In The Trench With Three Hours' Watch To Take, I Blunder Through The Splashing Mirk; And Then Hear The Gruff Muttering Voices Of The Men Crouching In Cabins Candle-Chinked With Light. Hark! There'S The Big Bombardment On Our Right Rumbling And Bumping; And The Dark'S A Glare Of Flickering Horror In The Sectors Where We Raid The Boche; Men Waiting, Stiff And Chilled, Or Crawling On Their Bellies Through The Wire. "What? Stretcher-Bearers Wanted? Some One Killed?" Five Minutes Ago I Heard A Sniper Fire: Why Did He Do It?... Starlight Overhead - Blank Stars. I'm Wide-Awake; And Some Chap'S Dead.