Then came a salvo--six
shells--followed by several others. "S.O.S." was signaled and "Stand
to," and out we raced for the guns, sans shirt, sans everything, bumping
into the trees on our way and falling in shell holes in the orchard.
The gas they were putting over at this time was more dangerous than any
I had yet experienced, it having a more direct effect on the lungs than
any they had yet given us. It had started to rain and the darkness was
black, but we reached the guns within scheduled time, and under great
difficulty we exploded our shells; but most of our work in that
discharge was guesswork.
It soon cooled down and we again sought our billets after laying the
guns on "S.O.S." and even the pain from the stings of the bees did not
prevent us getting into dreamland in short order.
At 3:30 in the morning I went out to visit the last guard shift, as was
my duty. Then, dawn breaking over the land, I went out to see what
damage the shells had done, and on the way I stumbled into a crop of the
most delicious mushrooms.
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