Item 04: G. O. Hawkins letters to his family, 2 January 1915-November 1917 - Page 204
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[Page 204]
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A casualty, see his hands tremble, his eyes are like those of a hunted animal and he can only speak in a whisper, with the halting accents of intense fear. His is a case of shell shock. Let those who despise him come to this war and brave a bombardment in the trenches.
Yonder there is s worse case than his, a young man, as fine as you may see in an army struck completely dumb, and with no nerve left whatever. Here is a lad with his head bound up, he has an ugly scalp wound but all will b well with him, his eyes are bright and he smiles as he shows his steel helmet all battered in with shrapnel. "This save my life" says he, and it was so
Some of the shrapnel fragments has pierced the rim of the helmet but the pellet which wounded him had merely, deep dented the crown without penetrating. His wound is sever enough and his brown hair is plastered to his brow with blood, the heavy beefy man he speaks to, leans on a stick weak and sickly with a wound in the groin. There is a poor fellow on a streatcher with a gashed side and great hole torn in the hip.
A shiny motor car pulls up amongst the great amublance waggons, and outsteps a Colonel Doctor, I recognise him at once, Dr Barker