s time to sit around and chat about the big surprise
we had given Fritz and the success of our attack. Before giving the word
to fire I would first warn the men, so they could look out for their
eardrums, besides getting out of the way; we never fire unknowingly to
any of the men as the concussion works a severe hardship on the ears.
One of the boys was sitting on an ammunition box, leaning against the
gun wheel, with his feet on a little fireplace that we had taken a
chance on installing, thinking the fog was so thick Fritz would not
notice the smoke. As usual, our ammunition was stationed in our rear.
One fellow was squatting on the sand bags and leaning against the
shells; I was sitting in seat three, between the gun wheel and the left
side, while another was on seat four, also between the gun wheel and the
gun on the right; another man was standing ready to put a shell in the
muzzle.

"Fellows, are you ready?" I asked.

"All right."

"Fire!"

The next instant I felt my feet giving way from under me. The gun had
blown off at the shield, the muzzle being blown to pieces, gas and fumes
filled the air, the spokes were blown out of the wheels, splinters
striking me on the feet and legs. I started to the front of the gun and
fell on top of Graham.

"What happened?" he asked. "I don't know," I said. There were several
pieces of tube lying about that looked like parts of a German shell.
Graham yelled to know what had happened. "A German shell hit the gun," I
said. He was then seized with shell shock and became uncontrollable.
Park, who was leaning against the ammunition, was blown up, the shell
having driven clean through his spine; the man loading the shell had a
fragment driven clear through his stomach. The man leaning against the
gun wheel was beheaded as cleanly as any king's executioner with his ax
could do it, his head lying in the fireplace! The cartridge had exploded
but the shell did not.

The trouble was caused by what is known as a "defective" shell.

I left the gun pit to help Graham over to the dressing station and I had
a job on my hands; he was suffering from a bad attack of brain
concussion. After attention a couple of Fritzies carried him to the
rear.

Returning to the gun pit I found a state of wild confusion among the
fellows as to what had really happened. On examination I found it was
this defective shell; over to the right of the gun I picked up a chunk
of it over a foot long.

Those who