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[Page 111]

A motor waggon bursting apart in a cloud of smoke is a clear cut memory.   Then a fire and men lying in the road, then a Scotty with one arm in pulp begging me to have 'a cig' an' tak nae note o' the shrapnel - this in hot sunshine & near some trees half hidden in black smoke - then a New Zealander with a knife ripping at my tunic - then some guy with a string of questions.   Then No 35 B.H. [Base Hospital].   Apparently this took near 8 days yet it seems like one day

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