He seemed to be alone.  There were bushes all about him.  He remembered that he had been fighting on the edge of a wood where there was a great deal of underbrush.  This no doubt accounted for his being alone.  Out in the meadow beyond there were lying a number of dead and wounded, as he could see by peering through the bushes.  There were some dead men in the bushes, too, but no wounded.  It would have been a comfort at that moment to have had some wounded companions to whom he might speak, whom he might help, or by whom he might be helped.  He felt as though he were the only living man in a world of the dead.