Now it can be Told

While we hung on the news from Verdun -- it seemed as though the fate of the world were in Fort Douaumont -- our own lists of death grew longer.

In the casualty clearing station by Poperinghe more mangled men lay on their stretchers, hobbled to the ambulance-trains, groped blindly with one hand clutching at a comrade's arm. More, and more, and more, with head wounds, and body wounds, with trench-feet, and gas.