CHAPTER IV
MY HORSESHOE WORKING
It was the fourth day of the second battle of Ypres. I was in charge of
my subsection at the guns and the men wanted water. I volunteered and
went to a farmhouse 150 yards off, got the water and had started back
for the guns. I had just stepped outside the door of the farmhouse when
Kr-kr-kr-p! a huge shell came over and blew the gun and gun crew into
kingdom come. A French captain was standing twenty feet from the door
and, following the report, I started for our gun. I had just taken a
step or two when another monster of death came hurtling through the air,
straight for me, as I thought, but, instead, it was a message for the
French soldier; it got him squarely, leaving not a fragment of his body
to be seen.
Immediately after the death of our gun crew and the French captain our
gun position was moved, and that same evening after supper, consisting
of the usual bread, jam and tea, Walter Hope and I were on our way to
the dugout. When half-way there a sudden emptiness entered into my life
and the next thing I knew I was being lifted on to a stretcher.
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