Much of this story is spent on the view of the battlefield. The soldiers’ eyes are continually taking in the scenes surrounding them. The eyes observe the battery, which is being heavily shelled, as well as the meadows, house, and the woods. Nowhere is safe from the shelling, although the eyes keep moving, seeking some sort of escape.

The eyes do not belong to one person. There is little focus on the individual in the story. Instead, the eyes belong to a group of soldiers—usually the infantry—who act in one motion, as their eyes sweep the battle area in unison. When Collins leaves the group to act on his own, venturing out into the meadow, he is no longer part of the 400-eyed group. His own eyes, reflected back in the water, are described as “two pieces of metal” (Paragraph 66).This recalls the metal of the weaponry, further dehumanizing Collins.

The house is a reminder of the domestic world, a world before war. But there is no more domestic activity. War has infiltrated all aspects of life; nothing can be untouched by it. Yet another shell hits the house, “and as, after the roar, the shattered wall fell in fragments, there was a noise which resembled the flapping of shutters during a wild gale of winter” (Paragraph 14).