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Grant, Reginald

"S.O.S. Stand to!"

"
Throughout my three years' campaigning I persisted in repeating that
"they would never get my number," until it almost became second nature
with me, and the hairbreadth escapes I have had almost convinced me
"there is something in it." Be that as it may, hundreds of men all
around have "gone West" while I have been permitted to go through three
years of it comparatively unscathed.
We finally got past the observed spot. The trench now commenced to run
into a valley, and although there was water in it to a depth of fully
two and a half feet, through which we had to wade, we were glad we were
alive to paddle through it. But there was more trouble ahead. Fritz was
turning gas into the valley, and I, being in front, got the first
whiff.
"Masks, on with your masks," I roared, jamming on my own at the same
moment. In addition to the gas, our friends had succeeded in shooting up
a large ammunition dump, four hundred yards farther on, and the smoke
and fumes from the exploding bombs, shells and other ammunition, to say
nothing of the ear-splitting din, got me speculating as to whether our
13-squad was to go the way of so many reported thirteens.


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