Of all that came after I remember no more than a flight through air, and the dead stroke of a fall on earth with a stone above me.

For such is the fortune of war, whereof a man knows but his own share for the most part, and even that dimly.

The eyes are often blinded with swift running to be at the wall, and, what with a helm that rings to sword-blows, and what with smoke, and dust, and crying, and clamour, and roar of guns, it is but little that many a man-at-arms can tell concerning the frays wherein, may be, he has borne himself not unmanly.
This was my lot at Pont l'Eveque, and I knew but little of what passed till I found myself in very great anguish.

For I had been laid in one of the carts, and so was borne along the way we had come, and at every turn of the wheels a new pang ran through me.

For my life I could not choose but groan, as others groaned that were in the same cart with me.