d
that, at the first opportunity, I would plant it at that spot; and
when our whole division was ordered out, on October tenth, I took the
cross and made my way up the Bapaume road and across the shell-torn
field to the place. The enemy was shelling the road, dropping several
heavies near me, so I hastily gathered into a shell-hole the remains
of all the dead in the immediate vicinity and covered them up as best
I could, then placed the cross firmly in the ground and turned to
leave. I had not gone far when a "crump" struck so close as to stun
and partly bury me. When I regained my senses I found that I could not
see. My eyes, especially the left, had been giving me a great deal of
trouble ever since I had been hit on the side of the face by a piece
of shell at the time of the Bluff fight, but now they appeared to be
entirely out of commission, and were very painful.

I lay there for some time, trying to figure some way out of it, all
the time hearing the shells coming over. This gave me an idea. Knowing
the direction from which the shells came with relation to the location
of the road, I started out to make my way there. Troops were
continually passing at night and I would be sure to find assistance.

From that time on my remembrance of things is not clear. I have hazy
recollections of falling into a trench, crawling out and getting
tangled up in some wire and then, I think I fell into another hole. I
do remember, distinctly, talking aloud to myself, as though to another
person, and telling him to "get down on your knees and crawl, you damn
fool: first thing you know you'll fall into one of those deep holes
and break your neck."

Whatever I did after that must have been done instinctively. (Was
afterward told that I was found, lying stretched out across the
Bapaume road.)

[Illustration: Removing the German Wounded from Mont St. Eloi]

The next thing I knew I suddenly discovered that I was trying to
_think_ of something. I believe I was conscious. I felt as though I
_could_ move if I wanted to, but didn't want to. I could see nothing,
but that also was of no importance. It was something else that was
wrong and it worried me in a vague, half-interested sort of way. One
thing was sure--I was dead, all right, and it wasn't half bad. Even if
I couldn't see or move or think, I was not suffering any pain or
inconvenience, which was a great relief from "soldiering." Nothing
seemed to matter, anyway, and I guess I went t