The wounded men were cursing, groaning, and wailing.

In the air, always, was a mighty swell of sound that it seemed could sway the earth.

With the courageous words of the artillery and the spiteful sentences of the musketry mingled red cheers.

And from this region of noises came the steady current of the maimed.
One of the wounded men had a shoeful of blood.

He hopped like a schoolboy in a game.