14 June 1918

We had advanced about 800 yards when a bullet struck my bayonet and splattered all over me, and a piece went into my chin, but all I knew about it was the blood dripping all over my rifle and hands. I never felt even a sting from it. Another rush forward of about 25 yards, and down to open fire again, and my rifle got knocked out of action between bullets and mud. We remained lying there for a while till we got wind enough to go forward again, and, as it was raining all the time, you can imagine that it was heavy going. The next rush forward I was just about to go down when I was knocked down instead. The bullet entered my tin hat in the front, and, travelling from right to left, came out of the side after entering my old, “top piece” above the eye and leaving above the temple. It only ploughed a way for itself for a distance of about two inches—the depth of a bullet. I thought a house had fallen on me when I got hit, and saw stars and other funny things, and it just spun me round like a skittle and down I went.

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This entry was posted on June 14th, 2018.