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[Page 26]
the last desparing moan of some stricken human. One imagines these things on walking back to your post after having taken a walking patient on, & you are returning alone. All the time there is the swish swish of great shells passing overhead, coming from guns you don't hear & going to their work of distruction far behind the German lines. They have a sound, that rises & falls, like the sighing of the wind. These shells passing overhead; the human-like screams of the flying iron; the uncanny surroundings, that are made more so by the pop-pop-pop of some unseen machine gun; the
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