There were men in the body of the earth, not in trenches, but in holes--my foot stepped on a head of hair and some low voice cursed me.
I was, I suppose, by this time, a little delirious with my adventure.

I know that I could now distinguish no separate sounds--shells and bullets had vanished and in their stead were whispers and screams and shouts of triumph and bursts of laughter.

Songs in chorus, somewhere miners hammering below the earth, somewhere storm at sea with the crash of waves on rocks and the shriek of wind through rigging, somewhere some one who dropped heavy loads of furniture so carelessly that I cursed him--and always these little patches of moonlight, so tempting just because one was forbidden....
We were not popular here.

Husky, breathless voices whispered to us "to be away from here, quick.

We would draw the fire.
What did we want here now ?" "Have you any wounded ?" we whispered in return.
"No, no," the answer came.