A sketch in gray and red dissolved into a moblike body of men who galloped like wild horses.
The veteran regiments on the right and left of the 304th immediately began to jeer.

With the passionate song of the bullets and the banshee shrieks of shells were mingled loud catcalls and bits of facetious advice concerning places of safety.
But the new regiment was breathless with horror.

"Gawd! Saunders's got crushed!" whispered the man at the youth's elbow.

They shrank back and crouched as if compelled to await a flood.
The youth shot a swift glance along the blue ranks of the regiment.
The profiles were motionless, carven; and afterward he remembered that the color sergeant was standing with his legs apart, as if he expected to be pushed to the ground.
The following throng went whirling around the flank.

Here and there were officers carried along on the stream like exasperated chips.