ught into the theatre had
been hit on the forehead. The bomb-fragment had not penetrated the
skull, but had passed along its surface. The scalp hung over the
forehead loosely like an enormous flap, the red, jagged edge nearly
touching the eyebrows. Since then I thought of this man every time there
was an air-raid.

The event increased our uneasiness. After each "bombing-stunt" we
thought: "We were lucky this time--it will be our turn next though."
Moreover, we began to realize our helplessness. We were compelled to
remain in our tents during a raid and there was no possibility of taking
shelter. We could have put on our steel helmets--they would at least
have afforded some head protection, but hardly any of us had the courage
to do anything that might be regarded by the others as a sign of fear.

The discussion about the bombing of hospitals had made us all think of
air-raids. We had nearly finished our day's work when we noticed a few
clouds on the horizon. We felt relieved. Perhaps the sky would be
overcast and we would have an undisturbed night.

"I can't stick night raids," said one of our number. "They don't put my
wind up a bit, but they interfere with my sleep and make me feel tired
in the mornings."

A man who had been in the war from the beginning answered:

"I can see you haven't been out here long, and have never been in a
proper raid. I'll never forget the last time we were bombed. We were out
on rest about fifteen miles behind the line. Fritz came over and I had
the wind up so badly that I left the tent to go into the open fields.
(I'd had a taste of it before, you know, and that makes all the
difference.) Then he bombed us before I knew where I was. I ran for my
life. There was a hell of a crash behind me and a bit caught me in the
shoulder and knocked me down. When it was all over I got up and went
back, although my shoulder hurt like anything. A lot of our fellows were
running about and shouting. Where my tent used to be, there was a big
bomb-hole and my mates were lying dead all round--fourteen of them. I
didn't recognize most of them, they were so smashed up. Fritz had
dropped one right on the tent. I reckon I was lucky to get off with a
Blighty! I was in hospital six weeks and then I got ten days' sick leave
in London. Fritz came over one night--Christ, I didn't half have the
wind up! We were sitting in the kitchen, mother and father didn't seem
to mind much--they didn't know what it meant. Fritz