Shell hole in the courtyard of Admiral Ronarc'h's commanding post in Nieuport.
We had, for our protection, an arch made of half-thicknesses of bricks. If we must be struck, then we should have, at least, the opportunity of not suffering very long!
Each told his story, tales of the sea and of the war—then—that was not all, there was a programme of work to accomplish, and we at once set about the task.
Toward nightfall, I left the shelter or cave, which I shall never forget. The shell which shook us fell in the courtyard of a house, scooping out a funnel-shaped crater thirty feet in diameter. A Marine discovered the base of the projectile: a 420![3]
A comrade who helped him carry it said:
"They are foolish if they think they can kill our admiral with a 420, and also be sure that St. Anne of Brittany will curse their German God!"
A TELEGRAM FROM ATTILA, NIEUPORT-BATHS.
March, 1915.