wounds. He was very gallant, and was doing so well and is a great loss.
He was hit by a shell and very badly wounded, and died on the way
down to the base I believe. He was not in bad pain, and our doctor man
aged to get across and attend to him at once.
We have had a very hard time, and our casualties have been large.
Believe me you have all our sympathy in your loss, and we have lost a very
gallant soldier.
Please write to me if I can tell you or do anything.
Yours sincerely,
C. Crawshay, Lt.-Col. Then he made out the official casualty list?a long one, because only eighty men were left in the battalion?and reported me 'died of wounds'. Heilly lay on the railway; close to the station stood the hospital tents with the red cross prominently painted on the roofs, to discourage air-bombing. Fine July weather made the tents insufferably hot. I was semi-conscious now, and aware of my lung-wound through a shortness of breath. It amused me to watch the little bubbles of blood, like scarlet soap-bubbles, which my breath made in escaping through the opening of the wound. The doctor came over to my bed. I felt sorry for him; he looked as though he had not slept for days.
I asked him: 'Can I have a drink?'
'Would you like some tea?'
I whispered: 'Not with condensed milk.'
He said, most apologetically: 'I'm afraid there's no fresh milk.'
Tears of disappointment pricked my eyes; I expected better of a hospital
behind the lines.
'Will you have some water?'
6. Recently captured by the British.
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GRAVES: THE DEAD FOX HUNTER / 1987
'Not if it's boiled.'
'It is boiled. And I'm afraid I can't give you anything alcoholic in your present condition.'
'Some fruit then?'
'I have seen no fruit for days.'
Yet a few minutes later he returned with two rather unripe greengages.7 In whispers I promised him a whole orchard when I recovered.
The nights of the 22nd and 23rd were horrible. Early on the morning of the 24th, when the doctor came round the ward, I said: 'You must send me away from here. This heat will kill me.' It was beating on my head through the canvas.
'Stick it out. Your best chance is to lie here and not to be moved. You'd not reach the Base alive.'
'Let me risk the move. I'll be all right, you'll see.'
Half an hour later he returned. 'Well, you're having it your way. I've just got orders to evacuate every case in the hospital. Apparently the Guards have been in it up at Delville Wood, and they'll all be coming down tonight.' I did not fear that I would die, now?it was enough to be honourably wounded and bound for home.
A brigade-major, wounded in the leg, who lay in the next bed, gave me news of the battalion. He looked at my label and said: 'I see you're in the Second Royal Welch. I watched your Fligh Wood show through field-glasses. The way your battalion shook out into artillery formation, company by company?with each section of four or five men in file at fifty yards interval and distance? going down into the hollow and up the slope through the barrage, was the most beautiful bit of parade-ground drill I've ever seen. Your company officers must have been superb.' Yet one company at least had started without a single officer. When I asked whether they had held the wood, he told me: 'They hung on to the near end. I believe what happened was that the Public Schools Battalion came away at dark; and so did most of the Scotsmen. Your chaps were left there more or less alone for some time. They steadied themselves by singing. Afterwards the chaplain?R. C.8 of course?Father McCabe, brought the Scotsmen back. Being Glasgow Catholics, they would follow a priest where they wouldn't follow an officer. The centre of the wood was impossible for either the Germans or your fellows to hold?a terrific concentration of artillery on it. The trees were splintered to matchwood. Late that night a brigade of the Seventh Division relieved the survivors; it included your First Battalion.'
1929, 1957
The Dead Fox Hunter
(In memory of Captain A. L. Samson, 2nd Battalion Royal Welch Fusiliers, killed near CuinchySept. 25th, 1915)
We found the little captain at the head; His men lay well-aligned. We touched his hand?stone cold?and he was dead,
7. Type of plum. 1. Village in northern France. 8. Roman Catholic.
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198 8 / VOICE S FRO M WORL D WA R 1 5And they, all dead behind, Had never reached their goal, but they died well; They charged in line, and in the same line fell. 10The well-known rosy colours of his face Were almost
