The O.C. said the matter would be looked into
immediately.
There was no sleeping that night; we were too excited and chattered away
like school girls over our experiences, and to pass the time the
inevitable card game started. During the game the sniping was active and
continuous, the bullets chipping the building in all quarters. Our light
was from a candle jammed into a jam tin and set between a couple of sand
bags that we used for a table. Our mate, who had not yet taken his turn
on the gun-watch, was inclined to be rather skeptical about our story
of the sniper, declaring it couldn't be possible that Fritzie could be
carrying on such work in the very midst of our lines, and that our
imaginations had been running riot with us. We had been playing about
three-quarters of an hour when a gust of wind blew the door open,
throwing the faint gleam of the candle out in front. I jumped to close
the door, the light blowing out as I did so, and at the same instant I
heard a report from the same direction as before. I closed the door,
telling Blaisdell to light the candle.
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