Oh, blimey!"
A shell burst and a dozen splinters whizzed past Bill's ears. He was
down immediately another prostrate Moslem on the floor of the trench.
In front of me Pryor sat, his head bent low, moving only when a shell
came near, to raise his hands and cover his eyes. The high explosive
shells boomed slowly in from every quarter now, and burst all round
us. Would they fall into the trench? If they did! The La Bassee
monster, the irresistible giant, so confident of its strength was only
one amongst the many. We sank down, each in his own way, closer to the
floor of the trench. We were preparing to be wounded in the easiest
possible way. True we might get killed; lucky if we escaped! Would any
of us see the dawn?...
One is never aware of the shrapnel shell until it bursts. They (p. 194)
had been passing over our heads for a long time, making a sound like
the wind in telegraph wires, before one burst above us. There was a
flash and I felt the heat of the explosion on my face. For a moment I
was dazed, then I vaguely wondered where I had been wounded. My nerves
were on edge and a coldness swept along my spine.... No, I wasn't
struck....
"All right, Pryor?" I asked.
"Something has gone down my back, perhaps it's clay," he answered.
"You're safe?"
"I think so," I answered. "Bill."
"I've copped it," answered the Cockney. "Here in my back, it's burnin'
'orrid."
"A minute, matey," I said, tumbling into a kneeling position and
bending over him.
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