He raged with his head, his arms, and his legs.
Another, the commander of the brigade, was galloping about bawling.

His hat was gone and his clothes were awry.

He resembled a man who has come from bed to go to a fire.

The hoofs of his horse often threatened the heads of the running men, but they scampered with singular fortune.
In this rush they were apparently all deaf and blind.

They heeded not the largest and longest of the oaths that were thrown at them from all directions.
Frequently over this tumult could be heard the grim jokes of the critical veterans; but the retreating men apparently were not even conscious of the presence of an audience.
The battle reflection that shone for an instant in the faces on the mad current made the youth feel that forceful hands from heaven would not have been able to have held him in place if he could have got intelligent control of his legs.
There was an appalling imprint upon these faces.