The roar of the shells, the hum of grape and canister, the whistle of bullets, the shouts of men, formed a mighty roar that seemed to render thinking impossible.

Showers of leaves fell incessantly, great boughs of trees were shorn away, and trees themselves sometimes came crashing down as a trunk was struck full by a shell.

The undergrowth had caught fire, and the thick smoke, mingled with that of the battle, rendered it difficult to see or to breathe.

I had but one thought, that of making my way through the trees, of finding the corps to which I was sent, of delivering my message, and finding the general again.

No, I don't think I had much thought of danger, the whole thing was somehow so tremendous that one had no thought whatever for one's self.