"What is it?" I asked.
"Killed by a stone."
It was quite true. The shell had hit the cobbles, and a flying splinter of stone had taken him in the head, killing him instantly.
We helped to bury him. Killed in the very act of showing kindness to a comrade! Another debt to brother Boche.
That day the company was gradually moved to a more advanced position, and again my heart tightened as I listened to the roar of the fight in front. I was kept busy carrying messages backwards and forwards to headquarters, to the front line, to the signallers, and with frequent messages to the artillery.
It may be of interest to some for me to relate how I saw one of my messages acted upon. My message was a verbal one, and I delivered it as I received it as follows:
"To O.C. 2nd Artillery Brigade:
"Please search wood on my left flank, range about 2,000 yards."
"From O.C. No. 2 Co. 5th Battalion.
"Time, 3 P.M."