me unconscious.

Call it a hallucination, a trick of the brain, or what you will. I
make no attempt to influence you; I merely record the incident--but my
own belief I will keep to myself.

Whatever it was, I no longer feel there is any mystery about death.
Nor do I dread it.

Arnold was busy tearing open the field dressing which I carried in a
pocket of my tunic.

"Use the iodine first, Arnold; it's in the pocket in a glass phial."

"The glass is broken, sir."

"In a piece of paper there are two morphia tablets--quick, better give
them to me."

"They are not here, sir." And he bound the dressing round my eyes as
the blood trickled down my face.

"Quick, Arnold, my right pocket--feel in it; some papers there--a
secret code--take them out--tear them up--quickly; tell me have you
done it?"

"Yes, sir, I have done it."

I was sinking; I felt myself going; I felt that the end was at hand. I
clutched his shoulder and pulled him towards me:

"Arnold, I'm going. If you get back--tell my--wife--" But the message
that was on my lips was not finished; I could speak no more. I was
dropping into space, dropping, dropping; everything disappeared, I
remembered no more.

I do not know how long I remained in this condition. I remember
gaining consciousness and finding Arnold by my side.

Something terrible was happening. I gradually began to realise that
another attack was taking place over my head. This time the fire was
coming from both sides. A stream of bullets seemed to be pouring over
the shell-hole. The meaning was obvious: a machine-gun had been placed
in the trench ten yards away, and its deadly fire was pouring over the
shell-hole in which we lay. Loud explosions were taking place all
round us, and with each explosion the earth seemed to upheave, and I
felt the thug, thug of pieces of metal striking the earth close by;
whilst showers of earth kept falling on my body. I couldn't last long.
The guns of both sides seemed to be searching for us; we must soon be
blown to pieces.

How long this lasted I cannot say. I was weak; my shattered nerves
could not stand such a terrible ordeal. I lay huddled and shivering at
the bottom of the shell-hole, waiting for the jagged metal to strike
my body, or be hurled, mutilated, into the air.

Again I became unconscious. When I next recovered my senses Arnold
was trying to lift me, to carry me away, but his strength was not
equal to it. He laid me down again.

The firing