The spy system had so thoroughly impregnated every hole and corner of
the district around Ypres that it became the sorest thorn in the sides
of the Command, but we finally managed to root it out hip and thigh, and
that sector is now as immune from their activities as any other sector
in the front lines.
Going up to take my position with the gun next day I met a bomber of the
21st Canadian Infantry, carrying a bag of his wares--hand grenades. We
walked together for some distance, and just as I was on the point of
leaving him to turn off over to my battery I was appalled by one of the
most horrifying sights I have seen at the front. One of the pins of a
grenade worked loose in the bag and exploded, blowing his right hand and
leg completely off. I have seen scores of happenings, each of which in
its entirety was a thousand times more terrible, but there was something
about the suddenness, the total unexpectedness, and the fearful spurting
of his life's blood, that filled me more full of horror than anything
before or since.
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