From the trench in which we collapsed under our packs, while another lot went away, we could see as far as a railway embankment.

The far end of the loophole-pipe enframed tumbledown dwellings and cabins, ruined gardens where the grass and the flowers were interred, enclosures masked by palings, fragments of masonry to which eloquent remains of posters even still clung--a corner full of artificial details, of human things, of illusions.

The railway bank was near, and in the network of wire stretched between it and us many bodies were fast-caught as flies.
The elements had gradually dissolved those bodies and time had worn them out.

With their dislocated gestures and point-like heads they were but lightly hooked to the wire.

For whole hours our eyes were fixed on this country all obstructed by a machinery of wires and full of men who were not on the ground.