Death of Sergeant Count Charles d'Ansembourg
By Dr. Duwez, Army Surgeon to the Regiment of Grenadiers
Between the walls of sacks, by the breach hollowed out in the dyke, we could see the Yser, its banks of mud, and its grey, tranquil stream. The green bank on the other side was reflected in it, surmounted by spikes lifting their sharp points towards the sky.
The raft glided along noiselessly. The man who was drawing the rope was crouching down at the water's edge and his khaki coat made him look like a big rat curled up. In the breach opposite, one or two anxious faces could be seen. The raft bunted against the edge. We were almost in the enemy's territory.
Along the little dyke was a shallow trench hollowed out in the thick grasses. One had to bend almost double in order to be protected by the top of the trench. The Yser, at our feet, made a bend and curved inwards towards Dixmude. The pink and white ruins of this town could be seen in the background. The trench then continued higher up and very soon we were in the little post.
It was there that Sergeant d'Ansembourg was lying. A soldier was endeavouring to staunch the blood which, flowing in long drops over the face and from the back of the wounded man's head, formed a little pool. The ball had struck him just above the right eye, near the temple. It had made a hole in the cap lying near the grenade. The wound was a mortal one; there was nothing to be done. All that remained of life was gently ebbing away.