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Fanny Goes to War by Pat Beauchamp
page 25 of 251 (09%)
who had been hit on the head by a piece of the same shell, and
instantaneously killed, was being borne on a stretcher into the farm. It
all seemed curiously unreal.

One of the men silently handed me a bit of the shell, which was still
warm. It was just a chance that we had not stopped opposite that farm
for lunch, as we assuredly would have done had it not been hidden
beyond the bend in the road. The noise of firing was now very loud, and
though the sun was shining brightly on the farm, the road we were
destined to follow was sombre looking with a lowering sky overhead.
Another shell came over and burst in front of us to the right. For an
instant I felt in an awful funk, and my one idea was to flee from that
sinister spot as fast as I could. We seemed to be going right for it,
"looking for trouble," in fact, as the Tommies would say, and it gave
one rather a funny sinking feeling in one's tummy! A shell might come
whizzing along so easily just as the last one had done.[2] Someone at that
moment said "Let's go back," and with that all my fears vanished in a
moment as if by magic. "Rather not, this is what we've come for," said a
F.A.N.Y., "hurry up and get in, it's no use staying here," and soon we
were whizzing along that road again and making straight for the steady
boom-boom, and from then onwards a spirit of subdued excitement filled
us all. Stray shells burst at intervals, and it seemed not unlikely they
were potting at us from Dixmude.

We passed houses looking more and more dilapidated and the road got
muddier and muddier. Finally we arrived at the village of Ramscapelle.
It was like passing through a village of the dead--not a house left
whole, few walls standing, and furniture lying about haphazard. We
proceeded along the one main street of the village until we came to a
house with green shutters which had been previously described to us as
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