A live shell burst and hit one poor fellow in the lower part of the body. I asked him if I could do anything for him, and he said, “Yes; have you got a rifle?” “Yes,” I said. “Well,” he said, “for God’s sake shoot me out of my misery.” I told him I could not do that, so I gave him water: Pte. F. Bruce, Suffolk Regiment.
Of Wife and Child
In our trenches on the Aisne after a hard fight we found one of the Gloucesters with an unfinished letter in his hand. It was written to his wife and little girl. It spoke hopefully of the future, and said, “Tell Annie I will be home in time to make her Christmas tree.” He never got further, for a German shell had laid him out: A Seaforth Highlander.
Loot!
The looting has been awful; beautiful homes broken up, and articles of clothing, household linen, pictures, and furniture smashed to atoms and trodden under foot. They took away the wines, for on our advance up country the numerous German camps were strewn with bottles, articles of equipment, and other things too numerous to mention. They leave their killed by the side of the roads, and in the streets of villages—anywhere, in fact: Sergt.-Major H. Attree, 18th Hussars.
The Roll call
The horrors of war can only be imagined; yet we seem to get used to them. It seems callous to me, but after the battle we have roll-call. The sergeant calls out the names. Perhaps the first one he calls is missing. Nobody knows where he is. The next one is called, and somebody says, “I saw him shot.” The sergeant puts him down as “shot” or “wounded.” Nobody comments or says anything: Corporal R. W. Crow, Royal Engineers.
Reading Ruskin
I came on a wounded man of the Lancashire Fusiliers one day. He had two ghastly wounds in his breast, and I fancy he was booked through. He was quietly reading a little edition of Ruskin’s “Crown of Wild Olive,” and seemed to be enjoying it immensely. As I chatted with him for a few minutes he told me that this little book had been his companion all through and that when he died he wanted it to be buried with him. His end came next day, and we buried the book with him: A Sergeant of the Fifth Lancers.