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There's a heavy distant rumble As the lingering sun sinks low And there's flashing of artillery In the battle's ebb and flow; And the searchlight ever flickers Seeking, seeking for a sign Of the enemy in motion Down the line. Now the din creeps ever nearer Til the air is rocked with sound And the rifles and machine guns Get to business, all around; And there sounds the devil's chorus The discordant notes of hell, When the guns boom forth their greetings In unceasing bursts of shell. But at last the gunfire slackens And reluctantly draws to a close As the sound stunned weary gunners Seek a short, hard-earned repose; And only the sentry's rifle And machine gun's deadly breath, Remain to remind the wakeful Of nations in grips to the death. Pte Charles H. Brekell, 19th Batt AIF |
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