I retraced my steps half way to the ruined
building I had just left ten minutes before; I was looking longingly at
it, wishing for its friendly shelter, when a shell struck it, blowing it
to dust. I then led the horse, hugging the walls as closely as I could,
until I got to the edge of the square, then made a run for it across,
and had just cleared it when another cluster burst, wounding the horse
in the leg. Notwithstanding his wound, he managed to bear me up until I
got to the railroad crossing, lying southwesterly from the square about
500 yards distant. Here the airplane spotted me again and directed a
barrage to stop me crossing, but I took the chance and got through it.
Every step of the way to the bridge crossing the Yser Canal, shells were
being planted at my heels. I can only liken my state of mind to that of
the tenderfoot in the saloon of the Wild and Woolly, when Halfbreed
Harvey, just for the fun of it, took a revolver in each hand and
commenced sending the nuggets of lead into the floor at the unoffending
feet of the "Lady from the East," just to see him dance.
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