Dumptruck

The shells had mounted up for some time: there were several dumptrucks’ worth piled up down below the door.

The buried train car necessitated blasting a hole in the rock to create a depression and the removal of thirty-two dumptrucks worth of boulders.

After the quake, it was only natural that this would be the place where many of the dumptrucks conveying corpses from town brought their grisly cargo—and where now the government had chosen, atop the bleached-white pebbles of a mass grave, to erect its official memorial to the dead.