News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1919-01-01

| Pass me q bandage-tyke lis b'yonet
fer splint.> Blime me, is leg is
smashed, not 'arf hit haint. TIL rest
'Ello, 'e's got another one-quick,
tourniquet, the poor bOke's ableedin'
to death. Quick, h'up against the par
apet ere comes another"
Whiz-z-z! Bang-g-g!
Another flare, and once again was
thrown into the mud. 1 opened my
eyes. Bending over me, shaking me
by the shoulder was Atwell His voice
sounded faint and far away. Then I
came to with rush.
"Blime me, Yank, that was close
one. Did it get you?"
He helped me to my feet and felt
myself all over. Seeing was all
right, he yelled in my ear:
"We've got to leg 1t out Of ERE.
Fritz is sure sendin' over 'whiz-bangs'
and 'minnies.' Number 9 platoon in
the next fire bay sure clicked it. About
eighteen Of them have gone West.
Come on, we'll see if we can do any
thing for the poor blokeS."
We plowed through the mud and
came into the next fire bay. In the
light of the bursting shells an awful
sight met our eyes. The traverses were
Dashed in, the fire step was gone, and
in the paPados was a hole that looked
like a subway entrance. There was
mud and blood.
Every now and then, ducking as q
Withholding" or minnie" came over,
we managed to get four of the wound
ed on the stretchers, and Atwell and
l carried one to the rear to the first
aid dressing station. We passed the
dugout which / had left but a few
minutes before, or 1T least, what used
to be the dugout, but now all that
could be seen was a caved-in mass II
dirt; huge square-cut timbers sticking
out of the ground and silhouetted
against the light from bursting shells,
looking like huge giants. A shudder
passed through me as / realized that
If we had stayed In the dugout we
would have now been lying fifteen to
twenty feet down, covered by that
caved-in earth and Wreckage.
Atwell jerked his head in the direc-
ton of the smashed-in dugout, and, as
was his wont, remarked:
"HOw about that fancy report you
were writing out a few minutes ago?
Didn't | tell you that it never paid to
make out reports i'll the front line?
It's best to wait until you get to head
quarters, because what's the use of
wasting all that bally time when
you're liable to be buried in a
dugout?"
Turning my head TO listen to Atwell, ,
A shout came from the form on the
stretcher:
"Why in the bloody ell don't you
blokes look where you're goin'? You'd
think this was bloOmin' Picadilly
buss, and I was out with my best girl
on a joy-ride."
I mumbled my apologies and the
form relapsed into silence. Then the
muddy Tommy on the stretcher began
to humble Atwell asked him If he
wanted anything. With howl of rage
he answered:
"Of all the bloody nerve-do want
anything-Only bloody pair O.
crutches, a dish of fish and chips
and a glawss. of stout"
When we came to the first aid dress
ing station we turned our charge over
to some r. A. M. G. men, and ducking
and running through the communion
ton trench, we at last reached one of |
the roomy and safe elephant dug
outs" At last we were safe. Stun |
bling over the feet of men we came to |
an unoccupied corner and sat down in |
the straw. Several candles were burn |
ing. Grouped around these candles
were lot Of Tommies, their faces pale |
and a frightened look in their eyes |
Strange to say, the conversation had |
nothing to do with themselves. They |
were sympathizing with the poor fell
lows in the front line who were click
ing 1t.
I must have dropped off to sleep.
When l awOke it was morning, and af-
ter drinking our tea and eating our
bread and bacon, Atwell and l report
ed to brigade headquarters, and were
again detailed into the front-llne
troooI,