"I'm sorry," he muttered, a moment afterwards. "I didn't mean it, but, my God! this is hell!"
"You'll have to lie here," I said, when I put the bandage on. "You'll get carried out at night when we can cross the open."
"I'm going now," he said. "I want to go now. I must get away. You'll let me go, won't you, Pat?"
"You'll be killed before you're ten yards across the open," I said. "Better wait till to-night."
"Does the trench lead out?" he asked.
"It probably leads to the front trench which the Germans occupied this morning," I said.
"Well, if we get there it will be a step nearer the dressing-station, anyway," said the wounded boy. "Take me away from here, do please."
"Can you stand upright?"
"I'll try," he answered, and half weeping and half laughing, he got to his feet. "I'll be able to walk down," he muttered.
We set off. I walked in front, urging the men ahead to make way for a wounded man. No order meets with such quick obedience as "Make way for wounded."