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[Page 75]

March 9th
Our camp was bombed last night, but no damage was caused except wounds to two horses. During tea time two, the camp was cleared by the arrival of some shells. With the knowledge that Fritz has us in his minds eye, like this, it is certainly not nice being in the tents. There are dugouts available, but they are scattered, and our admirable O.C. says that he wants to keep us all together. He is nicely housed himself.

March 12
Shell fire has "got the wind up" me, at last. I saw a man killed by a piece of shell where he should by all the laws of chance been perfectly safe. He must have been over two hundred yards from where the shell landed; he was getting into a dugout, the shell, to get him had to pass between the apex of a triangle formed by two beams of stout wood; the piece of shell hit him just on the join of the rim of his steel hat with the crown, & should really have been diverted; but it made a hole in the tin hat & a horrible mess of the man's head.

Now the [indecipherable] of every piece of shell in the air scares me & I look for cover. I had another experience of how far a piece of shell can travel too. Later on with an ordnance man I was standing by Middlesex Dump watching the big shells landing on Brandenmolen

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