Stephen Crane

“ He lifted his first shovel load of earth, and for a moment of inexplicable hesitation, it was held poised above this corpse which, from its chalk-blue face, looked keenly out from the grave. Then the soldier emptied his shovel on -- on the feet.
Timothy Lean felt as if tons had been swiftly lifted from off his forehead. He had felt that perhaps the private might empty the shovel on -- on the face. It had been emptied on the feet. There was a great point gained there. The adjutant began to babble. "Well, of course . . . a man we've messed with all these years . . . impossible . ”

“ He again filled the shovel and flung in the earth. . . . . For a space, Lean worked frantically, like a man digging himself out of danger. . . . Soon there was nothing to be seen but the chalk-blue face. Lean filled the shovel. . . . "Good Good [sic] ," he cried to the adjutant, why didn't you turn him somehow when you put him in? This -- "
The adjutant understood. He was pale to the lips. "Go on, man," he cried, beseechingly, almost in a shout. . . . Lean swung back the shovel; it went forward in a pendulum curve. When the earth landed it made a sound -- plop. ”

“ The wounded man scrambled hastily for the top of the ridge without devoting any glances to the direction from whence the bullets came, and the other man followed at an equal pace, but he was different in that he looked back anxiously three times. ”