I am a bit down in the mouth over a thing that happened last night. We
had a bit of a sing-song and smoker to mark the arrival in camp of a
couple of boxes of cigarettes. My best chum, the one I have told you
about so often, was called on for a song, and, just as he took his fag
out of his mouth to oblige, a shell dropped into us, and he was badly
wounded on the side and in the head. “I’m done for, George,” was all
he had time to say, and off he went. He was a fine chum. No man ever
had better, and we were all cut up about it. He had a wife and four
children at home. God only knows what will become of them now: _A
Sergeant of the 1st Division Staff_.