In gutters along the road and in the wheat-fields these brass shells flashed in the sunshine like tiny mirrors.
The four miles of countryside over which for four days both armies had ploughed the earth with these shells was the picture of complete desolation.

The rout of the German army was marked by knapsacks, uniforms, and accoutrements scattered over the fields on either hand as far as you could see.

Red Cross flags hanging from bushes showed where there had been dressing stations.

Under them were blood-stains, bandages and clothing, and boots piled in heaps as high as a man's chest, and the bodies of those German soldiers that the first aid had failed to save.
After death the body is mercifully robbed of its human aspect.

You are spared the thought that what is lying in the trenches among the shattered trees and in the wheat-fields staring up at the sky was once a man.