He recalled tales of the terrible end of those who were marked down by this terrible disease. How they died in awful agony, the spine bent backwards like a bridge! In spite of the coats, the cold seemed to eat into his very heart. He started the night bravely enough, and fought against his troubles until his nerve collapsed hopelessly. The night was too long: it was too much to bear. He groaned aloud in his agony, and discovered that it was an immense relief. The men near him began to open fire. If it were really an attack, it was soon beaten down, and he began to shriek at them for wasting precious ammunition that they might want when it was too late. He used words that he never even knew that he knew. Great bursts of anger, he found, distracted his attention from the pain, if only for a few moments. To this end he worked himself into such a transport that the bleeding re-commenced, and he was forced to cease, exhausted. In another hour his nervous downfall was completed. He began to cry. Each second of the interminable night dragged slowly by, as if it gloated over his pain. In the end it became too much for him and he fainted away, peacefully and thankfully. CHAPTER XXXI THE FIELD HOSPITAL When he came to, it was daylight, and two Stretcher Bearers were tugging at his feet. The weight of him seemed terrific, but eventually they hoisted him on to the stretcher. Some of his men gathered round, and told him that "they'd soon put him straight at the hospital." He smiled, rather wryly, but still he smiled, and mumbled: "Well, good luck, No. 5 Platoon." And so they carried him away, feet foremost. They plunged along the muddy paths. He was convulsed with fear that they would overturn him. And the jolting sent red-hot pains through his head, and twisted his back terribly. A Company came straggling up the path, led by no other than the Major, who had been his Company Commander at the beginning of the war. "Well, young feller, how are you? You'll be all right in a day or two." Reply was impossible for him, and the Major hurried on. The men who followed seemed shy of him. They looked at him covertly, and then turned their eyes quickly away, as if he were some horrible object. It annoyed him not a little. That journey was the most painful thing that happened to him. But each sickening jolt had the compensation of landing him a yard nearer the hospital, and the hope of easing his pains buoyed him up somehow. When they arrived at the Gunner's Cave, the Stretcher Bearers put him resolutely down, and intimated that it was not "up to them" to take him any further. The Ambulance, they said, ought to be there to "take over" from them. But there was no sign of an Ambulance, and meantime he was literally thirsting for the attentions and comforts of a hospital. His natural reserve broke completely down. He begged, and entreated, and prayed them to take him on.