But I suddenly had an intuition. The man's eyes avoided me.
"It's a put-up job," I shouted down his ear; "you've done it yourself!"
I shook him roughly by the shoulder. The wretched creature tottered, and fell on his side, protecting his mutilated hand.
"You hound!"
I ground my teeth:
"A good job if it kills you!"
I believe that in my rage I went so far as to kick him.... One's own weak moments are so easily forgotten.... I was choking with anger and disgust, and the agony too of being unequal to my task.... I was responsible; and we were hanging back behind all the others, making a gap in the front of attack.
Our comrades who had gone on began to abuse us.
"A lot o' bloomin' funks!"
"Going to stay behind are you?"