There was still some
ammunition left lying on the ground that had been spilled, and we were
instructed to gather it in at once, clean and oil it and put it in the
gun pit. While busy at this job I glanced overhead and noticed an
airplane: "I believe that's a German," calling attention to it. The
fellows didn't agree with me, they holding it was a British bird, and we
all went on with our work. I kept my eye on it, however, for some
reason, and saw it finally go over the ridge and turn, and as it
turned--Kr-kr-kr-p! and a shell lit on the ridge 25 yards in our front;
it was about an 8-incher and showered the dirt in all directions. We
scurried like rabbits into our pit, emerging in a few minutes when the
dirt and dust had blown away. Glancing up again I noticed the air bird
turn again, and instantly another one came, this time landing near the
gun pit, throwing a shower of mud and dirt on it, and causing
considerable profanity for the extra work given us by Fritz. Instant
orders were given us to take cover as a strafing was in sight, and we
shot out of the gun pit, jumped into the trench and ran along.
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