â€˜The effect of our bombardment was terrific. One man told me he had never seen so many dead before.â€™ â€”War Correspondent.
â€˜He'd never seen so many dead before.â€™ They sprawled in yellow daylight while he swore And gasped and lugged his everlasting load Of bombs along what once had been a road. â€˜How peaceful are the dead.â€™ Who put that silly gag in some oneâ€™s head?
â€˜Heâ€™d never seen so many dead before.â€™ The lilting words danced up and down his brain, While corpses jumped and capered in the rain. No, no; he wouldnâ€™t count them any more... The dead have done with pain: Theyâ€™ve choked; they canâ€™t come back to life again.
When Dick was killed last week he looked like that, Flapping along the fire-step like a fish, After the blazing crump had knocked him flat... â€˜How many dead? As many as ever you wish. Donâ€™t count â€™em; theyâ€™re too many. Whoâ€™ll buy my nice fresh corpses, two a penny?