Another damp night
and quite a lot of machine gun fire. “Wizz-bangs” were used by the Germans on a
much wider front, and we had several burst behind us, and fragments “plopped”
into the sand-bags. I had been on the 10 p.m. to midnight, and the 4 a.m. to 6
a.m. sentry duty and so was still on the fire step when the normal general
“Stand-to” took place, in misty rain. Then it happened --- a crash! a jar! and
I felt, no pain, but a numbness in my foot. Blood was oozing through a hole in
the boot. Stretcher bearers arrived, took off the boot and examined and dressed
the foot to stop the blood flow. I was carried out on a stretcher feeling quite
unshaken and in, seemingly, little pain.
After a short stay in
the dressing station, I was transferred to the Field Ambulance in “Plug Street”
Village. After an anti-tetanic inoculation I was put in an ambulance, with
three others, all rather badly wounded, and we ultimately arrived in the quaint
old town of Bailleul. I do not know where the others went but I finished up on
a bed in the large front room of a beautiful house, somewhere off the main road
of the town. The hospitals were full up with the more seriously wounded and the
many “gas” casualties. Later I was to see some of these poor souls. Gas is a
very cruel form of warfare. The wounded may moan, but the gassed just gasp, and
gasp, and many die in agony.
[Plug Street = Ploegsteert]
[Plug Street = Ploegsteert]
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