him. He tells the first speaker that once, in life, they had shared the same hope. He, too, had hunted beauty in the world. He, too, had left behind him "truth untold" (line 24). He, too, had lived the life of war that both speakers now leave to others. He had once had courage and mystery and wisdom and mastery. He had once dreamed of washing away the blood of war, pouring his spirit into healing the world. But it was not to be.

Why? What happened to the second speaker that brought him to the dark place in which he now lies? He explains, "I am the enemy you killed, my friend" (line 40). He was the soldier on the other side of the battle line. He stood opposite the first speaker. He recognizes his killer immediately. "I knew you in this dark," he says, "for so you frowned / Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed" (lines 41–42). He tried to fight back, but death took him too quickly. Yet the second speaker holds no grudge. He ends his speech is a calm invitation: "Let us sleep now" (line 44).

In this poem, then, Owen, himself a World War I soldier, reflects on the nature of enemies. Those he fought against, he implies, were not so different from him. They lived and dreamed and hoped and suffered the same, even though they were on the other side of the war.

Unbeknownst to the main speaker, he has just met, amidst all the other sullen shades of Hell, the German soldier he killed in World War I. There is a natural and immediate rapport between the two men, despite the fact that they were on opposite sides in the war and despite the fact that the main speaker was responsible for the German's death.

This is because all the deep, bitter divisions that characterized their mortal lives have no purchase in the infernal kingdom down below. Here, there is only a shared sense of solidarity, a shared sense of grief at the waste and futility of the conflict that they have left behind. United by the hopeless that they both feel, the speaker and the man he killed are able to develop the kind of bond that would never have been possible in wartime.

It says a lot about the horrors of war that such reconciliation can only take place in Hell, somewhere we normally associate with death, pain, and endless suffering. Yet in actual fact, the men have left behind an even worse Hell: the Hell above ground, the Hell of the trenches, where men on opposite sides cannot be anything other than the bitterest of enemies.

The conversation between the two poet-soldiers is one that is of particular interest in Owen's poetry, as he seems to have created a kind of alter-ego that allows him to communicate his thoughts and feelings about war and how terrible it is. By picking two "common men" who act as his mouthpiece, Owen is able to comment upon the futility of war and the way that there will always be men, who, in spite of the futility of war, endeavour to go "Into vain citadels that are not walled." As the tragic ending of this poem shows, the cost of such attempts will be paid well and truly by the common soldier who ends up being a pawn in the game that more important people play for conquest and territory.

The way in which the two soldiers remain anonymous in this poem yet manage to form a friendship and a bond in spite of being on different sides makes this poem a poignant elegy for the many dead soldiers who gave their lives for a conflict that was meaningless to so many of them. Through their relationship, Owen seems to be suggesting that war is something that is little more than two strangers who could be friends killing each other. In their death, the two characters of this poem achieve the unity and friendship that they were denied during their lives:

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now...'

Through showing this relationship and the cost of war in very real and human terms, Owen is hoping to prevent further wars in the future.