"Well, you shouldn't remain like that, if you don't want to get your
head blown off."
My next sentry hour began at nine in the morning; I was standing on
the banquette when I heard Bill speaking. He was just returning with a
jar of water drawn from a pump at the rear, and he stopped for a
moment in front of Spud Higgles, one of No. 4's boys.
"Mornin'! How's yer hoppin' it?" said Spud.
"Top over toe!" answered Bill. "Ow's you?"
"Up to the pink. Any news?"
"Yer 'aven't 'eard it?"
"What?"
"The Brigadier's copped it this mornin'."
"Oo?"
"Our Brigadier." (p. 183)
"Git!"
"'S truth!"
"Strike me pink!" said Spud. "'Ow?"
"A stray bullet."
"Stone me ginger! but one would say he'd a safe job."
"The bullet 'ad 'is number!"
"So, he's gone west!"
"He's gone west!"
Bill's information was quite true. Our Brigadier while making a tour
of inspection of the trenches, turned to the orderly officer and said:
"I believe I am hit, here." He put his hand on his left knee.
His trousers were cut away but no wound was visible. An examination
was made on his body and a little clot of blood was found over the
groin on the right. A bullet had entered there and remained in the
body. Twenty minutes later the Brigadier was dead.
Rations were short for breakfast, dinner did not arrive, we had no tea
but all the men were quite cheerful for it was rumoured that we were
going back to our billets at four o'clock in the afternoon.
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