He wished that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage.
The spectral soldier was at his side like a stalking reproach.

The man's eyes were still fixed in a stare into the unknown.

His gray, appalling face had attracted attention in the crowd, and men, slowing to his dreary pace, were walking with him.

They were discussing his plight, questioning him and giving him advice.

In a dogged way he repelled them, signing to them to go on and leave him alone.