The men ahead of us were mostly Brandenburgers,
Bavarians and Prussians. At one place I had leapt with my pal into a
small shell hole, and over to my right was a kiltie engaged in a
hand-to-hand struggle with a Hun. The kiltie was an undersized chap and
Fritz was about twice his size, and with a much longer bayonet, and Jock
seemed to be getting a bit tired. I didn't think it wise to wait, even
though I felt very certain that Jock could hold his own, and taking
careful aim with my revolver I tumbled the Fritzie over. Looking then to
the left I saw another kiltie in an argument with a Prussian; they were
fencing with their bayonets, and a second Hun was coming up behind and
again I took aim, but before I was able to get my pill started, my mate
robbed me of the honor and sent his pill crashing through Fritzie's
head. So I turned my attention to the immediate opponent, but before I
could shoot, the kiltie's body interposed in my line of vision, and when
I got a glimpse of the Prussian a second later, he was in the throes of
death with a bayonet in his bowels.
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