"Fellows, are you ready?" I asked.
"All right."
"Fire!"
The next instant I felt my feet giving way from under me. The gun had
blown off at the shield, the muzzle being blown to pieces, gas and fumes
filled the air, the spokes were blown out of the wheels, splinters
striking me on the feet and legs. I started to the front of the gun and
fell on top of Graham.
"What happened?" he asked. "I don't know," I said. There were several
pieces of tube lying about that looked like parts of a German shell.
Graham yelled to know what had happened. "A German shell hit the gun," I
said. He was then seized with shell shock and became uncontrollable.
Park, who was leaning against the ammunition, was blown up, the shell
having driven clean through his spine; the man loading the shell had a
fragment driven clear through his stomach. The man leaning against the
gun wheel was beheaded as cleanly as any king's executioner with his ax
could do it, his head lying in the fireplace! The cartridge had exploded
but the shell did not.
The trouble was caused by what is known as a "defective" shell.
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