One of Fritz's bombs burst right close by us and some of it gets me behind the ear. But they are only flesh wounds and we have got to get to the objective, which is a sunken road. He is using a trench mortar on us. But with our usual luck he is firing wild and, therefore doing no damage. I jump into the sunken road. I am too far ahead of my men. The Fritz's who are firing the Trench Mortar see me and think that we are all there. So they start to beat it. I fire at them with my revolver. I hear some squealing behind me and look around. Three Germans! What can I do. I cannot take them prisoners nor can I take any chances. So I have no other alternative but to shoot them. It may seem cold blooded to a lot but the only thing I am sorry for is that I did not kill a few more. About the same time my men came along and we started bombing the dugouts. It was great sport. You throw a bomb down then stand clear. A burst of flame comes up and then you hear a lot of squealing.
At the end of the sunken road Fritz started to counter-attack us, so there is nothing for me to do but lead a couple of men over the open to a trench and place a block in so that Fritz cannot get behind us. On the way over I get hit in the ankle and the wrist with a couple of Fritz's bullets. We get into the trench and start bombing up the trench. There we have a bit of a fight and I get a bayonet wound in the back. By this time I had lost a considerable amount of blood so have to try to get out the best way I can for at the time we did not know how things were going to go. But I found out later that we held on to all of our objectives. I started to crawl out, but Fritz also started sniping at me. I got to the wire and it looked as if I would not be able to get through as Fritz's bullets were flying around. Anyway I decided to go through the best way I could even if I did get killed. As soon as I started to walk through the wire Fritz stopped firing, for why I do not know and another thing I did not care so long as I got out of the wire and could get into a shell hole. By this time, through loss of blood I was feeling pretty weak. Whilst taking a breath in this shell hole I saw a Boche coming towards me. I was not taking any chances so covered him with my revolver. He surrendered and helped me to get out.
It is impossible in this short space to tell all the glorious achievements of the Twenty-fifth. Suffice to say that the empire bore no braver sons and history will chronicle no greater sacrifices than those of the men of Nova Scotia.
FINIS
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