I was given a map, and a message for my company officer. When I had
made my way in the dark to where the outpost should have been, I found
it had retired. I went to where I saw a picket posted, and noticed a
body of men. It was just getting light, and I thought I saw an English
officer. I put down my rifle and whistled. They immediately dropped
down and fired at me. I dropped into the grass, too, to bluff them into
thinking I had been “winged.” I crawled through a big turnip field, and
heard a general action commencing. I could hear people talking, but
not loudly enough to know whether they were English. So I hoisted my
cap upon a stick and called, “Hullo, West Kent!” Then shots came in my
direction, and, as it was getting lighter, I decided, as the best thing
to do, to make for our big guns. I crawled along the ground for nearly
two hours, and when I stopped for a short rest a bullet hit my right
arm: _Corpl. Drinkwater, West Kent Regiment_.