I went over to him and found he was bleeding in the neck.

I bound him up and then taking his kit, which he was loath to lose, was helping him to walk towards the dressing station when I saw what I thought were sandbags in the moonlight.

I called out, "Is anybody there ?" A voice replied, "Yes, Sir, there is a dying man here." I went over and there I found two stretcher-bearers beside a young fellow called Duffy, who was unconscious.

He had been struck by a piece of shrapnel in the head and his brain was protruding.
Duffy was a well-known athlete and had won the Marathon race.

We tried to lift him, but with his equipment on he was too heavy, so I sent off the wounded man to Wieltje with one of the stretcher-bearers who was to return with a bearer party.