 Private Dixon found the first body and managed to cry out before vomiting. It lay on the floor of the barracks, the entire floor. The flesh of it had been smeared somehow, spread like butter over the rough dirt floor. Bones already looking pitted and rotten, stuck out at random angles like dead trees in a still swamp. The skull rested on one of the highest bunks facing the doorway. Ten gleaming white fingertip bones crammed into the cracked eye sockets. As one man went to examine it, he found the back of the skull had been crushed open. The rotting, sagging sponge of a tongue stuffed into the otherwise dry cavity.