Dead as a Nail
The German had killed several of our fellows before I knocked him over. As they were going through a gate—“piff”—and down they went. We knew by the sound that the rifleman could not be far, and we kept looking out for him, for there were no large bodies of Germans about. At last I saw a flash coming from a tree, and I took two aims at him, and then we saw him swaying to and fro, dead as a nail, but tied with a rope to the tree: Pte. Jakeman, West Riding Regiment.