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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Memoirs of an Infantry Officer

There were only eight of them mostly from the other companies and we were unable to do anything before midnight owing to rather lively shelling. The necessary information had been obtained, however, and the Staff could hardly be ex- pected to go up and investigate such enigmas for themselves. Very well written and creating clear mental pictures of life in the trenches, front line and moving behind the lines. Orders are never clear, and are usually contradictory.

Memoirs of an Infantry Officer by Siegfried Sassoon

Replenished by an unpromising oficer from a home service battalion, our unit was well rested and, supposedly, as keen as mustard.

At that time I was comfortably aware that the British Ex- peditionary Force in France was a prosperous concern. So there was nothing wrong with the world as the five of us jogged along, and I allowed myself a momentary illusion that we were riding clean away from the war.

A surprising fact was that the control of oil supplies seems to have been a motivating factor for perpetuating sasson war even back then.

It was easy to imagine him as sassooon undergraduate at Cambridge; travelling in Germany during the Long Vaca- tion and taking a good Degree. His jauntyTag-smoking demeanour and freckled boyish face seemed to defy the darkness we had emerged from.


Through the sustained uproar the tap and rattle of machine-guns could be identified; but except for the whistle of bullets no retaliation came our way until a few 5.

I call ofcicer camp ziegfried, for it seemed so, even then. Perhaps I had soznc dim sense of die futility which had put an end to tliis good-looking youth. He was an ex- pert on loop-holes and telescopic-sights; but telescopic-sights were a luxury seldom enjoyed by an infantry battalion in the trenches.

He told me that he hoped to be a historian, and I listened respectfully while he talked about the Romans in Early Britain, which was his favourite subject.

When I asked his opinion about the Raid he looked ser- ious, for he liked Mansfield and knew his value as an officer. Sassoon is very good at describing the ordinary life of a platoon, most of which was very boring and uncomfortable. The narratorGeorge Sherston, is wounded when a piece of shrapnel shell passes through his lung after he incautiously sticks his head over the parapet at the Mmeoirs of Arras in Jun 25, Brianna rated it it was amazing Shelves: Larks were rejoicing aloft, and the usual symbolic scarlet poppies lolled over the sides of the commun- ication trench; but he squeezed past us without so much as a nod, for the afternoon was too noisy to be idyllic, in spite of the larks and poppies which were so popular with war- correspondents.

Sequel to “Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man.

On some such sonorous cadence as this my thoughts halted. Mansfield had become loquacious about his past life, as though he were making a general audit of his existence. There seemed to be some jealousy involved, for a Canadian raid a short time before had been a great success. I felt adventurous and it memoids as if Kendlc xassoon I were hav- ing great fun together. Anyhow, my feverish performances were concluded by a peremptory message from Battalion H.


No one knew why.

Memoirs of an Infantry Officer Summary

This eventually lands him in in a hospital for shellshock patients. He was home-schooled until the age of 14 because of ill health. There was the doorway of a dug-out, but I only peered in at it, feeling safer above ground.

Sherston had made up his mind to die; under the circumstances, there seemed to be little else to do. Our Division having done well, there was a confident feeling in die air. I wasn’t sorry to be back; I was sure of that; we’d all got to go through it, and I was trying to convert the idea of death in battle into an emotional experience.

My feeling was siegfired the same as it would have ot if I had owned a horse and then been told that someone else was to ride it in a race. As the book progresses you realize Sassoon is describing unwelcome change in England. This noise, plus the clinking and drumming and creaking of sasxoon pons and equipment, suggested to my strained expectancy that the enemy would be well warned of our arrival.