But no bayonet wounds.

This is a war of hot lead, not of cold steel.

I read of these bayonet charges, but I do not believe that many such stories are true." I didn't believe it either.
The train which followed after the first, coming up out of France, furnished for us much the same sights the first one had furnished, and so, with some slight variations, did the third train and the fourth and all the rest of them.

The station became a sty where before it had been a kennel; the flies multiplied; the stenches increased in volume and strength, if such were possible; the windows of the littered waiting room, with their cracked half panes, were like ribald eyes winking at the living afflictions which continually trailed past them; the floors looked as though there had been a snowstorm.
A train came, whose occupants were nearly all wounded by shrapnel.
Wounds of the head, the face and the neck abounded among these men--for the shells, exploding in the air above where they crouched in their trenches, had bespattered them with iron pebbles.

Each individual picture of! suffering recurred with such monotonous and regular frequency that after an hour or so it took something out of the common run--an especially vivid splash of daubed and crimson horror--to quicken our imaginations and make us fetch out our note books.