underneath was all twisted an' torn, but there wasn't nobody in it.
There was some wounded lyin' in beds at the fur end of the ward, an' one
of 'em was cryin' somethin' chronic. Then someone brings a light an' I
sees an orderly lyin' by the side o' the bed with a big 'ole in 'is face
an' the blood pourin' out. I goes roun' to the other side--gorblimy--an'
there I sees the Sister lyin' on the floor with 'er 'ead blown clean
off--I dunno where it was blown to, I couldn't see it nowhere. Krikey,
it wasn't 'alf a sight to see 'er body without a 'ead lyin' in a pool o'
blood. It made me feel sick, so I ran orf an' came 'ere."

Private Trotter was trembling in every limb. He was the pluckiest man I
ever knew and capable of any piece of foolhardy daring. But this time he
was near a nervous breakdown.

We went to bed full of anxiety. For a long while we lay awake, straining
our ears to catch the sound of firing or the drone of German propellers.
But no sound broke the stillness of the night, and one by one we dropped
off to sleep.

The next morning was clear and sunny. The sky remained blue all day. Not
a cloud could be seen. "Our turn next"--that was the thought in
everybody's mind.

The evening was starlit once again. As we lay on the floor of the
marquee, wrapped up in our blankets, we heard the sound of bombing and
firing in the distance.

Clear days and clear nights followed each other. Sometimes a train would
stop in front of the C.C.S., hissing and puffing, and throwing up a
great shaft of light. We would curse it, fearing that it would attract