The bush-closed entrance was trampled flat, and in place of bushes it was filled with the bodies of dead men.

Dead men, everywhere dead men -- they lay about in knots, they were flung by ones and twos in every position upon the open spaces, for all the world like the people on the grass in one of the London parks on a particularly hot Sunday in August.

In front of this entrance, on a space which had been cleared of dead and of the shields and spears which were scattered in all directions as they had fallen or been thrown from the hands of their owners, stood and lay the survivors of the awful struggle, and at their feet were four wounded men.
We had gone into the fight thirty strong, and of the thirty but fifteen remained alive, and five of them (including Mr Mackenzie) were wounded, two mortally.

Of those who held the entrance, Curtis and the Zulu alone remained.

Good had lost five men killed, I had lost two killed, and Mackenzie no less than five out of the six with him.