BLOWN UP

Levin Daily Chronicle, 14 November 1918, Page 1

BLOWN UP

HOW IT FEELS. To be blown up by a shell is a quaint experience, but devoid of excitement. Things, happen so quickly that there is 110 time for psychological gymnastics. Tlie events of your early life refrain from flashing across your brain in a seend—at least mine did —and there is no preliminary agony of mind; at the moment, too, no physical pain. You simply get what is coming to you, and invariably you get it with merciful despatch. "Pop across and take over No. 10 platoon,"' said the adjutant. "Magratli's a casualty. Will you go now or wait a wee while?"

The Hun had just put- down a barrage on us. Between me and the Tenth Legion shells were dropping with disgusting frequency. And Sergeant McEachern—my sergeant—rWas watching me 1 un derstandingly. " I '11 go now,'' I said. i could have got there more quickly if I had trotted—sooner still if I had run. But I was sure that sergeant of mine was still m atching me, still smiling grimly. He was a fine old sergeant, with ribbons on his breast and a twinkle in his eyes. I didn't have any ribbons. It may be that I had a twinkle, perhaps even a smile. I hope so. Anyway, I would show him. I walked. About 50 yards was the distance I had accomplished. . . . The crescendo scream of the shell told me it was going to land somewhere near. It dropped 50 yards behind me. I glanced back and saw the cloud of black'smoke drifting with the wind. '' Poor old McEachern! " I said, "King's and Queen's South African, 1914 Star, Military Medal, D.C.M.—but maybe he's just wounded—a Blighty.'' I sighed. This time the shell-scream sounded a little shriller. I wondered if it would drop in front of me or in rear. I wondered if it had my name on it. It had. A week later I woke" up. A nurse was standing at my bed. "Feel all right now?" she asked. I grinned. White sheets in a bed felt good to me.

"Drink this and tell me how it happened. ''

"Something about a shell," I answered. "Went into the ground under my feet, then—this. It's lovely tea." When she had gone I regarded the little card with the pencilled words. It Left Radius Dislctd., Concussion." That meant I had a broken leg, a broken arm, and a headache.—Macdonald Watson, in the "Daily Mail."