He saw the great cavalry battle with all its red turmoil, the savage swing of von Boehlen's saber and himself drifting out into the darkness.
He opened his eyes, the battle vanished, and he saw himself lying upon a low, wooden platform.

His head rested upon a small pillow, a blanket was under him, and another above him.

Turning slowly he saw other men wrapped in blankets like himself on the platform in a row that stretched far to right and left.

Above was a low roof, but both sides of the structure were open.
He understood it all in a moment.

He had come back to a world of battle and wounds, and he was one of the wounded.