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 had ceased. He seemed to be peering out of the shell-hole and talking to me. I think he was planning escape. It must have been dark, for he seemed uncertain about the direction.
Then I began to vomit; I seemed to be vomiting my heart out, while Arnold seemed to be trying to comfort me.
I again became unconscious. When I regained consciousness for the third time it seemed to me that I had been insensible for a great length of time. But I seemed to be much refreshed, although very weak.
Everything was silent, uncanny; I could see nothing, hear nothing. Yes, I remembered; I was shot blind, and I was still in the shell-hole. I felt my head; there was a rough bandage round it, covering my eyes. The bandage over my right eye was hardened with blood, and dried blood covered my left cheek. My hair was matted with clay and blood; and my clothes seemed to be covered with loose earth.
But what did this uncanny silence mean?—Arnold, where was he? I called him by name, but there was no response. I remembered the firing I had heard: yes, he must be dead.
In my blindness and despair I groped on my hands and knees around the shell-hole to find his body. He was not there. I was alone!