Explore "Paths of Glory" by Irvin S. Cobb on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was late in the short afternoon, and getting close on to twilight, / when we got back into the town. Except for the soldiers there was / little life stirring in the twisting streets. There was a funeral or so / in progress. It seemed to us that always, no matter where we stopped, / in whatsoever town or at whatsoever hour, some dead soldier was being / put away. Still, I suppose we shouldn't have felt any surprise at that. / By now half of Europe was one great funeral. Part of it was on crutches / and part of it was in the graveyard and the rest of it was in the field.
Daily in these towns back behind the firing lines a certain percentage / of the invalided and the injured, who had been brought thus far before / their condition became actually serious, would die; and twice daily, or / oftener, the dead would be buried with military honors.