tretcher-bearers bandaged
my head and wiped as much blood as they could from my face.
I felt I could go no further, but a 'runner' who was going
to H.Q. led me back. I held on to his equipment, halting for
cover when a shell came near, and hurrying when able. I
eventually got to our First Aid Post. There I fainted away.

"I awoke next day just as I was being lifted on to the
operating table, and whilst under an anaesthetic my eye was
removed. Although I was not aware of this for some time
afterwards I did not properly come to until I was on the
hospital train the following day bound for the coast. I
opened my eye as much as possible and recognised two of my
old chums, but conversation was impossible; I was too weak.
The next five days I spent at a hospital near Le Treport. My
mother was wired for, and the offending piece of shell was
abstracted by a magnet. It couldn't be done by knife, as it
was too near the brain."

Thus far Sydney Baxter tells his own story of the great day of his
life. I leave it as it stands, though I could add so much to it if I
would. Will you picture to yourself this sightless young man, with
torn head and shattered hand piteously struggling from those shambles?
Will you look at him--afterwards? It's worth while trying to do so.
You and I have _got_ to see war before we can do justice to the
warrior.

The piece of shell which entered his head just above the right eye
opened up the frontal sinuses, exposing the brain. "It is wonderful,"
wrote the doctor who attended him, "how these fellows who have been
fighting for us exhibit such a marvellous fortitude." He had lost the
end of his fourth finger and another has since been entirely
amputated.

To the amazement of all, Sydney Baxter, within a few hours of his
operation, asked for postcards. He wrote three--one to his mother, one
to someone else's sister, and one to his firm.

This last postcard is a treasured possession of Sydney Baxter's
business. It runs as follows:

_July 4th, 1916._

"Have unfortunately fallen victim to the Hun shell in the
last attack. I am not sure to what extent I am damaged. The
wounds are the right eye, side of face, and left hand. They
hope to save my eye, and I have only lost one finger on
hand.

"I will write again, sir, when I arrive in England. At
pr