There he lay for eight hours, when the moaning of a wounded pal, three
or four feet away, roused him and he pulled himself over to him; his
pal's leg had been shattered from the knee down and Billy, in spite of
his own condition, managed to drag him for some distance toward the
dressing station, hopping on his left foot as he went and then resting a
bit. Finally the pain became too great and he could go no further;
every nerve and fiber of his aching body was at the breaking point of
utter exhaustion, and the pain of the gangrene in his wound, inspired by
the mud and dirt, gave him his finishing touch and he dropped. Bill's
pal then took up the struggle; he tottered to his sound foot and dragged
him to the dressing station, where he dropped beside him.
The tremendous rush of wounded men waiting for treatment made it
necessary for them to take their turn, and it was three-quarters of an
hour before they could either of them get attention; the German wounded
were treated in turn along with our own men, no favors being shown.
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