Two stretcher bearers came, and lifted me outside the shelter, where the wind blew, fresh and invigorating. Just as they turned, I heard the old familiar shriek that signaled the coming of a shell. It burst almost overhead. Most of the missiles it contained dropped on the other side of the shelter, but a few tiny pieces flew in my direction. Three of them hit me in the right arm, a fourth landed in my leg. "Is anybody hit?" yelled a Red Cross man, whose accent proclaimed him as an inhabitant of the country north of the Clyde. "I've got a couple of splinters," I said. I was lifted inside quickly. The Scotchman who put on some bandages on the little cuts looked at me accusingly. "Ye were warned, before ye went," he said. "Ye desairved it. But then," he added, "ye might hae got it worse. Ye're lucky ye did not get it in the guts." After a little while my arms and back began to ache violently. Two Red Cross men came along and moved me to another shelter similar to the first. This was the clearing station. From here motor ambulances carried the wounded to the shore. I knew from the burring speech of the big sergeant in charge that he hailed from Scotland. I asked him where he came from, and he told me that he came from Inverness. "Our regiment trained near there for a while," I said. "They garrisoned Fort George." "Ye'll no' be meanin' the Seaforth Highlanders, laddie," said he. "No," I said, "we're Newfoundlanders, the First Newfoundland Regiment." "Oh, I ken ye well, noo," he said, gloomily. "Ye're a bad lot; it took six policemen to arrest one o' your mob. On the Peninsula they call ye the Never Failing Little Darlings." After that he thawed quite a little. "I'll look at your wound noo, laddie," he said, after a few minutes. "Ye're awfu' light, laddie," he said as he raised me. "Puir laddie," he added, pityingly. "Puir laddie. Ye're stairved. I'll get ye Queen Mary's ration." "What's Queen Mary's ration?" I asked. "'T's Queen Mary's gift to the wounded. I'll get it for ye right away." He went outside the clearing station and returned in a few minutes with a cup of warm malted milk. "'T will help ye some till ye get aboard the hospital ship. Here's the ambulance noo." A fleet of motor ambulances swayed over the uneven ground and rolled up close to the clearing station. The drivers and helpers began loading the stretchers aboard and one by one started away. Before I was put into one, the big Scotchman took a large syringe and injected a strong dose of morphia into my chest. "Ye'll find it hard," he said, "bumping over the hill, but ye'll soon be all right and comfortable." "Tell me," I said, "shall I get into a real bed on the ship?" He laughed. "Sure ye will, laddie. The best bed ye've had since ye've been in the airmy. Good luck to ye, laddie."