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Hira Singh : when India came to fight in Flanders by Talbot Mundy
page 51 of 305 (16%)
artillery began pounding the ground so close to us that fragments of
shell and shrapnel flew over our heads incessantly, and great clods
of earth came thumping and splashing into our trench, compelling us
to keep busy with the shovels. Nor did the German artillery omit to
make a target of us, though with poor success. More than the half of
us lived; and to prove that there had been thought as well as
bravery that night we had plenty of ammunition with us. We were
troubled to stow the ammunition out of the wet, yet where it would
be safe from the German fire.

We made no reply to the shell-fire, for that would have been
foolishness; so, doubtless thinking they had the range not quite
right, or perhaps supposing that we had been annihilated, the enemy
discontinued shelling us and devoted their attention to our friends
beyond. But at the same time a battalion of infantry began to feel
its way toward us and we grew very busy with our rifles, the wounded
crawling through the wet to pass the cartridges. Once there was a
bayonet charge, which we repelled.

Those who had not thrown away their knapsacks to lighten themselves
had their emergency rations, but about half of us had nothing to eat
whatever. It was perfectly evident to all of us from the very first
that unless we should receive prompt aid at dawn our case was as
hopeless as death itself. So much the more reason for stout hearts,
said we, and our bearing put new heart into our officers.

When dawn came the sight was not inspiriting. Dawn amid a waste of
Flanders mud, seen through a rain-storm, is not a joyous spectacle
in any case. Consider, sahib, what a sunny land we came from, and
pass no hasty judgment on us if our spirits sank. It was the
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