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Full text of "TheCompleteMemoirsOfGeorgeSherston"

appointed by this, though the discovery of a dead or
wounded enemy might have caused a revival of
humane emotion. Returning to the sniping post at the
end of the trench I meditated for a few minutes, some-
what like a boy who has caught a fish too big to carry
home (if such an improbable event has ever hap-
pened). Finally I took a deep breath and ran head-
long back by the way I'd come.

Little Fernby's anxious face awaited me, and I
flopped down beside him with an outburst of hysteri-
cal laughter. When he'd heard my story he asked
whether we oughtn't to send a party across to occupy
the trench, but I said that the Germans would be
bound to come back quite soon. Moreover my rapid
return had attracted the attention of a machine-gun
which was now firing angrily along the valley from a
position in front of the Wood. In my excitement I had
forgotten about Kendle. The sight of his body gave
me a bit of a shock. His face had gone a bluish colour;
I told one of the bombers to cover it with something.
Then I put on my web-equipment and its attach-
ments, took a pull at my water-bottle, for my mouth
had become suddenly intolerably dry, and set off on
my return journey, leaving Fernby to look after the
bombing post. It was now six o'clock in the morning,
and a weary business it is, to be remembering and
writing it down. There was nothing likeable about
the Quadrangle, though it was comfortable, from
what I have heard, compared with the hell which it
became a few days afterwards. Alternately crouching
and crawling, I worked my way back. I passed the
young German whose body I had rescued from dis-
figurement a couple of hours before. He was down in
the mud again, and someone had trodden on his face.
It had disheartened me to see him, though his body had

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