World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, English
I had scarcely started when a shell lifted a tree out of its roots and
threw it on the road right in front of me, but the horse cleared it with
a jump. I passed a dressing station and the sight was unspeakably sad;
laid in rows as thickly as they could be placed, the wounded men in all
stages of agony were patiently waiting their turn,--ah, God! how patient
those men were,--and scattered here and there on both sides of the road
were groups of men who had just begun their last sleep, and at sight of
them the horse would shy and balk every few yards. I had no spurs with
which to control the animal, and my work was cut out for me! he was an
ideal parson's horse, for the brute would hardly go faster than a walk.
Getting through the gas barrage, I came to a camouflage hedge, used to
screen and protect the traffic on the road, which sheltered me for four
or five hundred yards further, and then I emerged again into the open,
and again I was spotted. At this point a set of new dressing stations
had been established, and they were as busy as bees looking after
wounded men, and every moment of the time they were engaged in their
work the machine guns of the enemy planes were hammering the stretcher
bearers and the wounded men as industriously as though they were
attacking fighting men. It was quite evident they knew I was a dispatch
rider, and I was a target every step of the way, shells being planted
before me, behind me and on each side of me. But I knew the Major's
thought was with me every foot of the way; I knew he was counting the
seconds until I would reach the wagon lines and deliver the message--and
the only message--that would save the position; I knew he was praying
for me that very moment and I knew that every man in the battery was
doing the same thing. If I failed! It was not with me a question of my
life; I didn't care a damn for that, and every man of us, on that day
anyway, felt the same. But I must hasten with all the speed that was in
me, and I must keep my life, and my head as well, that the others might
live.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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