I'm glad, after all, Yank, it's so dark.

I don't want to see ten thousand dead men stretched out in rows." "We're going to get a wettin'," said the man to Jim.

"The air's already damp on my face.

Thar, do you hear that thunder growlin' in the southwest?
Tremenjously like cannon far away, but it's thunder all the same." "What do we care 'bout a wettin', Jim?
Fur the last few days this young Yank here an' his comrades have shot at me 'bout a million cannon balls an' shells, an' more 'n a hundred million rifle bullets.

Leastways I felt as if they was all aimed at me, which is just as bad.