I kept on going, but in a few seconds I got a bullet right through my shoulder.  It entered below my arm at the back, and came out just below the shoulder-bone, making a clean hole right through.

I fell into a shallow shell-hole, which was just the size to take me in, and as I lay there, the possibility of capture first came to me.  Up to that time I had never thought of it as a possible contingency; but now, as I lay wounded, the grave likelihood came home to me.

I scrambled to my feet, resolved to take any chances rather than be captured.  I have an indistinct recollection of what happened for the next few minutes.  I know I ran from shell-hole to shell-hole, obsessed with the one great fear—­of being captured—­and at last reached the reserve trench, in front.  I fell over the parapet, among and indeed right on top of the men who were there, for the trench was packed full of soldiers, and then quickly gathered myself together and climbed out of the trench and crawled along on my stomach to the left, following the trench to avoid the bullets, which I knew were flying over me.

Soon I saw, looking down into the trench, some of the boys I knew, and I dropped in beside them.  Then everything went from me.  A great darkness arose up from somewhere and swallowed me!  Then I had a delightful sensation of peace and warmth and general comfort.  Darkness, the blackest, inkiest darkness, rolled over me in waves and hid me so well no Jack Johnson or Big Bertha could ever find me.  I hadn’t a care or a thought in the world.  I was light as a feather, and these great strong waves of darkness carried me farther and farther away.

But they didn’t carry me quite far enough, for a cry shot through me like a knife, and I was wide awake, looking up from the bottom of a muddy trench.  And the cry that wakened me was sounding up and down the trench, “The Germans are coming!”

Sergeant Reid, who did not seem to realize how desperate the situation was, was asking Major Bing-Hall what he was going to do.  But before any more could be said, the Germans were swarming over the trench.  The officer in charge of them gave us a chance to surrender, which we did, and then it seemed like a hundred voices—­harsh, horrible voices—­called to us to come out of the trench.  “Raus” is the word they use, pronounced “rouse.”

This was the first German word I had heard, and I hated it.  It is the word they use to a dog when they want him to go out, or to cattle they are chasing out of a field.  It is used to mean either “Come out!”—­or “Get out!” I hated it that day, and I hated it still more afterward.

There were about twenty of us altogether, and we climbed out of the trench without speaking.  There was nothing to be said.  It was all up with us.

CHAPTER II

THROUGH BELGIUM