his arm was disabled, but we continued to hold
the trench. Bink and Sammy took a bunch of bombers and went up to the
advance post; and that left our numbers still smaller. Just then
Sergeant Faulkener came in from the strong point wounded in the
shoulder. He had tried to keep it a secret, but loss of blood made him
so weak that he had to give up. I spoke to him, and he said, "Ain't
this hell? I get hit every little scrap I get into." He had been
wounded down at Kemmil when Fritzie blew up the trenches there.
"Honest John" we used to call him, and he was a good old scout.

The shell fire was still on just as bad as ever. Bob Richardson, our
stretcher bearer, was working like a hero, the wounded lying all around
him, and often the poor fellows were hit again before he got through
binding them up. A boy went past me with a bandage on his head. I
said, "Hello, Jack, got a Blighty?" He said, "No, I'm afraid it's not
bad enough for that." Poor fellow, he was shot through the eyes, and
he didn't know that he would never see again.

That afternoon, in response to an urgent request for help, a company of
men from the 29th came in. Towards evening the shelling died down a
bit, and the wounded that could walk went out. Carrying parties
arrived, and took out those who were badly wounded. Chappie was one of
the first to go. That night the Sergeant came along and said, "Goddard
and Wilson, go out on listening-post." We looked at the spot where he
wanted us to go. Fritzie was landing shells there about one a minute,
and there was absolutely no protection. I said "Say, Sergeant, that's
suicide!" "I know," said he, "but I have orders to put a post there."
I said, "All right, but if I get killed I'll come back and haunt you."
Well, over the top we went and we got to the place he had pointed out;
we had barely lain down in a shell hole when _whiz-bang_! a shell
landed just in front of us. It covered us with dirt, and we had hardly
gotten the dust out of our eyes when _whiz-bang_! another landed just
behind us. "Now," thinks I, "if one comes between those two, our name
is mud." It wasn't more than a minute when we heard another coming,
and this one landed in the part of the trench we had just left.
Shrieks and groans went up, and Wilson and I lay there shaking like
leaves. Just then, the Sergeant came out and told us to go back into
the trench, and you bet we were glad to do it. We found that the last
shell had kil