I picked him up again and off I went, making straight over the hill at the back of the position we had taken, so that he should be safe from the German fire. The point I wanted to reach was about a mile away, and it was a dreadful journey; but I managed to do it, and when I had got there, after many rests, I started to carry my man to the nearest village, which was some distance off.
I got to the village, but the German heavy shells were dropping so fast that I could not stay there, and they told me to carry him into the next village. I was pretty well worn out by this time, but I started again, and at last with a thankful heart I reached the village and got the man into a house where wounded men were being put.
Well, it was calculated that the distance was three miles; but I never felt the weight. Yes, he was quite conscious and kept on moaning and saying, “Oh!” and telling me that if ever he got out of it he would remember me; but I said that he mustn’t talk such nonsense--for I wanted him to stop thanking me and to keep his spirits up.
I don’t know how long I was in getting him over the ground, for I had no idea of time.
Having put my man in safety I left the house and began to go back to the position, expecting to find some of the regiments to rejoin, but when I reached the firing line there were no regiments left. They had been forced to retire, and the ground was covered with the dead and wounded, as it was impossible to bring all the wounded away.
There was a road at this particular point, and on reaching the top of it I saw the Germans advancing, about 500 yards away. Between them and myself there was a field-gun, with the horses hooked in, ready to move off; but I saw that there was only a wounded trumpeter with it.
I rushed up to him and shouted, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m hurt,” he said. “The gun has to be got away; but there’s nobody left to take it.”
I looked all around, and saw that there were no English gunners left--there were only the Germans swarming up, 500 yards away and badly wanting to get at the gun.
There was not a second to lose. “Come on,” I said, and with that I hoisted the trumpeter into the saddle of the near wheel horse, and clambering myself into the saddle of the lead horse we got the gun going and made a dash up the hill.