We thought we were making a good job
of it this time and getting away scot free, when suddenly I felt a stab
under my coat sleeve and almost at the same moment Mac had the same
experience and we broke into a run for the billet. By the time we got
there we were being stung frightfully on our bodies, as the bees had
made their way up under our shirt sleeves and we ripped off our coats
and shirts, fighting the common enemy at the same time. The boys in the
billet beat it outside while we "carried on."
After a vigorous battle we seemed to have the foe beaten into submission
and the fellows returned; then we had a feed of honey, hung up the
remainder on the wall and retired for the night. Mac retired to his bunk
first and had scarcely settled down when he emitted another snort, then
a yell; the bees had settled in between the blankets of his bed and were
renewing their onslaught on his helpless body.
Everybody started laughing at McLean's plight, but no sooner were the
rest of us settled down till we too had a battle on our hands; and in
the middle of the fray, Fritz started shelling our billets with gas
shells, one of the missiles going clean through the tile roof and
knocking the tiles down on our heads.
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