The
O.C. took charge of the balance of his effects.
Disregarding all thought of my own peril from the unexploded shell which
lay at the mouth of our dugout, I ran down the steps and got a blanket,
in which I wrapped the poor headless body, and then reported to the O.C.
and received orders to keep my men away from the spot for twelve hours.
I hastened to the cookhouse and imparted the news to the men, as well as
the orders. Heartfelt expressions of regret came from all, for in spite
of his constitutional nervousness, Billy was a prime favorite. But I
knew that I was the only one with whom the pain and sting would live;
the men were so calloused by such happenings that they no longer made a
lasting impression.
That was the longest and dreariest day I ever remember throughout my
three years of campaigning. No thought of my turn coming entered my
head, as I had so schooled myself into the belief that Fritz could not
make a shell for me that I had long since ceased to give the matter any
consideration whatsoever.
The day's work kept me from giving way to grief, and at nine o'clock
that night, when in the cookhouse, I heard a whistle and someone shouted
my name.
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