A pitch dark night on the Salonika front in 1917. I was in charge of an
advanced detachment near a railhead.
A general and a staff officer were travelling by rail-motor towards
the front line when in the darkness the rail-motor crashed into
some stationary freight trucks, completely wrecking the vehicle and
instantly killing the driver.
I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his
staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage.
Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down. Two
of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising his
legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand.
When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly
reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost the
original at Hill 60.
The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile
End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge,
he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"--_Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15
Bushey Mill Lane, Watford._