They supported each other in all manner of hoarse, howling protests.
But the regiment was a machine run down.

The two men babbled at a forceless thing.

The soldiers who had heart to go slowly were continually shaken in their resolves by a knowledge that comrades were slipping with speed back to the lines.

It was difficult to think of reputation when others were thinking of skins.

Wounded men were left crying on this black journey.
The smoke fringes and flames blustered always.