Together we went, going first to the house, and found the children
crying with fright; some of them tried to tell us something, but we
couldn't make out what they were saying. We crossed over to the windmill
and a phenomenon indeed met our eyes,--the wheel was turning in the
opposite direction from that in which the wind was blowing. We started
up the steps and--Ping! Ping! and Boxer fell with an oath and a bullet
in his leg. I assisted him to the farmhouse and then scooted over and
communicated with the O.C. I also informed a French battery that had
been terrifically shelled.
In the meantime a stretcher had been sent for, and Boxer was brought
back to the dressing station, where he had his wound dressed, which
luckily turned out to be slight.
That night I was filled full of the spirit of adventure and I wanted to
visit the windmill again. I got a pal to go with me and endeavored to
make it, but the flares were steadily burning and the snipers were so
busy we had to lie low. Again I went to the French battery and told the
officer commanding of my suspicions about the windmill.
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