It was about six o’clock in the morning when I received my souvenir. It was almost impossible for a wounded man to get back from the firing line without being riddled. I stayed in the trench until five in the evening. The noise was deafening, shrapnel bursting all over the place and raining bullets. I determined to try and get back to have my wound dressed, and I crawled back somehow, rolled down on to a road, crawled along again for a few hundred yards, and presently got in touch with some stretcher-bearers, who carried me to a doctor. I with many others lay in a barn for two days, and the shells from the enemy’s big guns burst unpleasantly near the hospital the whole time. After a two days’ ride in cattle trucks we reached a good hospital, where we were made comfortable: Pte. G. Sims, 1st Batt. South Wales Border Regiment.
Couldn’t Move
I was really fascinated by the shells, and was not really thinking of anything at all. Suddenly a shell burst over my head and it got me right in the back. I could feel my horse getting lower and lower; I put my hand behind me and felt a lot of hot wet. I wondered if I could get him over the ditch, but just before I got to it he rolled over into it with me. My troop sergeant came and asked me if I could get up. I said, “No, mate, I can’t move; I’ll have to stop here.” Then back came the trumpeter with Captain ——, and he asked me the same thing. If I couldn’t get on a spare horse they would have to leave me there. I said, “Very well, sir, I’ll stop. You had better clear out.” I crawled along the ditch to get out of the way of the shells, which were bursting a long time after my squadron had gone to cover. I lay there about four hours in a semi-conscious state, and when I came round I found I had buried my head in the mud trying to get out of the way of the shells: A Lance-Corporal of Hussars.
“Flying All Round”
The bullets and shells were flying all round, and did not cease until after dark. Then was my only chance to get out. I crawled on my hands and knees to a little inn, and there my wounds were dressed. To-day since I have been in hospital shrapnel has been bursting all round, but the hospital was not touched except for one bullet which struck a window. The bullet that wounded me went into one breast pocket and came out of the other, and in its course it passed through your photo, making a hole in the breast. What a strange coincidence! It then passed through my watch and struck a large clasp knife, smashing it to pieces and driving it through my pocket: Sergt. E. W. Turner, Royal West Kent Regiment.
Got Away
I got an awful wound in the left hip. A shell burst in the trenches close to me, killing five of our chaps; so I had a lucky get off. I had to lie in the trench wounded all day, as the battle was so fierce they could not take me to cover. A few days before this happened I and another of our chaps were captured by some Germans. They took everything I had, even my watch and chain. The escort took us to a barn for the night. We laid down and made out as if we were asleep. We could hear them talking, and they touched us, but we did not move, so they lay down themselves and soon dropped off to sleep. There were eleven of us altogether. Then we thought they were all right and sound asleep, so I seized a German rifle next to me, which was fully loaded, and I touched my mate and we both moved slyly away. I was determined to shoot the first German that moved and make a run for it; but we got away all right and slept the night in a wood: Pte. Evenden, 1st Coldstream Guards.
“Got Me, Too!”
“Come on now, lads,” said our officer, and we went running on as hard as we could. We had got to take the hill, you see, or smash the Germans that were on it. At last we got quite near—not 150 yards from the trenches. I and two pals of mine and two others got behind a hedge and started to blaze away. We lost our sick feeling then. There was one chap got hit in the face with a shrapnel bullet. “Hurt, Bill?” I said to him. “Good luck to the old regiment,” said he. Then he rolled over on his back. There was a grey German helmet over the side of the trench with a rifle under it. I let that German have a bullet all to himself. I saw his helmet roll back and his rifle fly up. Then I got on my knees to bandage up a pal, and just as I moved there was a smash on my side. They’d got me, too, and I rolled over and thought I was done for: Pte. S. Smith, 1st Warwickshire Regiment.