Memoirs of an Infantry Officer [Siegfried Sassoon] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Personal narratives of a British officer on the Western. 13 Feb Memoirs of an Infantry Officer, first published in , is Siegfried Sassoon’s fictionalized autobiography of the period between the early spring. 30 Aug Siegfried Sassoon was born in and educated at Clare College, of a Fox- Hunting Man (), Memoirs of an Infantry Officer () and.
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Our party entered xn difficulty and maintained a spirited bombing fight, and finally withdrew at the end of twenty-five minutes’ This was their way of telling England.
Memoirs of an Infantry Officer
The anonymous humorist who compiled Comic Cuts was also able to announce that the Russians had captured a redoubt and some heavy guns at Czartovijsk, which, he ex- plained, was forty-four miles north-east of Luck. It was inconvalescing in ‘Blighty’ from a wound, that he decided to make a stand against the war. It was also extraordinary to stand in the countryside that Sassoon captured so well and measure myself against that 15 year old who thankfully is more tolerant of Sassoon’s decisions and able to see the world as slightly less black and white.
I had now accounted for everyone.
In one comer a fight was going on in a Futuristic style infahtry a figure brandished a club while his adversary took a side- leap, losing an arm and a leg from a bomb explosion. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed in ominous si- lence. Memoirs of an Infantry Officer is a novel by Siegfried Sassoonfirst published in The Battalion was at Bussy, a three mile walk in late afternoon sunshine.
Many of them were Gordon Highlanders.
He’s furious about the actions of the British Army generals, for making decisions that needlessly cost the lives of thousands of men. Mametz was being heavily shelled when we stumbled wearily through its ruins, hut we got off lightly, though the first four miles took us four hours, owing to congestion of transport and siegfrried on the roads round Fricourt.
Full text of “Memoirs Of An Infantry Officer”
Mamctz and Montauban reported taken. Six inches are enough. Barton and I sat speechless, deafened and stupefied by the seismic state of affairs, and when he lit a cigarette the match flame staggered crazily.
In the meantime the troops contrived to be cheerful; to be away from the battle and in a good village was all that mattered, for the moment.
Memoirs of an Infantry Officer Summary –
He didn’t look to be more than Sponge s Sporting Tour. I knew that nothing in my previous exper- ience of patrolling had ever been so grim at offjcer, and I lay quite still for a bit, miserably wondering whether my num- ber was up; then I remembered that I was wearing my pre- war raincoat; I could feel the pipe and tobacco-pouch in my pocket and somehow this made me less forlorn, though life seemed much further away than the low mumble of voices in our trench.
A rat scampered across the tin cans and burst sand- bags, and trench atmosphere reasserted itself in a smell of siegfriied of lime. It made me long for England, and it made the war seem waste of time. As we got down into the trench young Kendle remarked that my new wire-cutters were a fair treat. A mouse was sazsoon on its head in the sugar- basin, which was made of metal and contained soft sugar.
Earth and chalk heaved up at the blue sky, the ground vibrated, and there was a noise like a 20 mad rainstorm, caused by the whizzing descent of clods and stones and the hiss of smaller particles. There, too, was the dressing station where Dick Tiltwood had died a couple of months ago; it seemed longer than that, I thought, as I passed it with my platoon and received a cheery greeting from our Medical Officer, who could always make one feel that Harley Street was still within reach.
View all 12 comments. Next day I moved to the Transport Lines, a couple of miles back, for I was one of eight officers kept in reserve. A rank animal healthiness pervaded our existence during those days of busy living and inward foreboding.
Sassoon presented his own experiences in novelistic form and therefore opted to use pseudonyms in place of names in his “George Sherston” trilogy George Sherston being Sassoon’s alter ego. At first, I t Siegfried Sassoon is my favourite war poet.
You see as soon as one gets across the Channel one sort of feels as if it’s no good worrying anymore — you know what I mean — like being part of the Machine again, with nothing to be done except take one’s offixer.
We stared at one another for a moment; some frbak of my brain made me remember that in peace aassoon he had been an enthusiastic rose grower — had won prizes with his roses, in fact; for he was a married man and had lived in a little house near the barracks. He had however become fully converted to the anti-war cause, and as is common with converts, his new opinions were held all the more passionately.
To view it, click here. It was here that he famously took a trench single handed.
But the room contained one object which unexpectedly re- minded me of the trenches — a silent canary in a cage. I don’t blame him at all. Leaving the trench we filed across the open hillside with Mametz Wood looming on the opposite slope. In Amiens, at the well-known Godbert Restaurant, we lunched like dukes in a green-shuttered private room. A patriotic man, he enlisted on 3rd August, the day before Britain entered the war, as a trooper in the Sussex Yeomanry.
A whiff from a certain sort of wood fire could make me see that camp clearly now, since it was strewn and piled with empty shell-boxes which were used for fuel, as well as for building bivouacs.
Forces should be required to show a thundering good reason for it, and the sooner conscription came in die better. One awoke stiff and cold, but with a head miraculously clear.
I was told that Edmunds, the Battalion Observa- tion Officer, had gone down to explain tire situation to Kin- jack; we were in touch with the Nordrumbcrland Fusiliers on our left.