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[Page 113]

We lit fags in the open and walked on leisurely commenting on the disconcerting state of affairs existing. Suddenly a "toute sweeta" (77") shell fell near. It was swiftly followed by a second and third each getting nearer to us. The C.O. looked at me and remarked that these were evidently meant for us. I felt quite sure that they were and said so. We made a break for a large shell hole and waited until the Jerry had satisfied himself that we were blown to atoms and then dived into a trench. These little sprints always find a fellow's weak spots.

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