Caesura
"It is all a matter of habit — even the front-line."
"The days, the weeks, the years out here shall come back again, and our dead comrades shall then stand up again and march with us, our heads shall be clear, we shall have a purpose, and so we shall march, our dead comrades beside us, the year at the Front behind us — against whom, against whom?"
"Pen-holders, a shell as a paper-weight, the ink-well — here nothing is changed."
Onomatopoeia
"The man gurgles."
". . . smash through the johnnies and then there will be peace."
"'Heathen,' she chirps but shuts the door all the same."
Alliteration
"The satisfaction of months shines in his dull pig's eyes as he spits out: 'Dirty hound!'"
"What would become of us if everything that happens out there were quite clear to us?"
Euphony
"Now red points glow in every face. They comfort me: it looks as though there were little windows in dark village cottages saying that behind them are rooms full of peace."
"Outside the window the wind blows and the chestnut trees rustle."
