That was what I now saw.
I had been terribly afraid for the first time since I had come to the war.

I had worked all day in the bandaging room, and perhaps my physical weariness was responsible; but whatever it might be there I was, a coward.

At the threat of every shrapnel I bent my head and shrugged my shoulders, at every cry of the wounded men--one man was delirious and sang a little song--a shudder trembled all down my body.

I thought of the bridge between myself and the Otriad--how easily it might be blown up! and then, if the Division were beaten back what massacre there would be! I wanted to go home, to sleep, to be safe and warm--above all, to be safe! I saw before me some of the wounded whom I had bandaged to-day--men without faces or with hanging jaws that must be held up with the hand whilst the bandage was tied.

One man blind, one man mad (he thought he was drowning in hot water), one man holding his stomach together with his hands.
I saw all these figures crowding round me in the lane--I also saw the dead men in the forest, the skull, the flies, the strong blue-grey trousers....