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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
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