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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"

At last I decided that as it was not a
fracture I would go as quickly as I dared. Above the clatter of the
machinery I could hear the weeping of the brother and the intermittent
cries of the wounded man, "Water, water."
"I think he's going," said the girl through the curtains.
At last we reached the hospital. We laid the man on the ground and the
doctors did all they could. But it was useless, the piece of shell had
cut in directly beneath the heart. In ten minutes he was dead. I turned
to the brother and laying both hands upon his shoulders said--
"Your poor brother was too badly hit. We could not save him."
He stared at me for a moment, not understanding. Then he turned and
flung himself down upon the body, weeping more bitterly than before.
I went to the ambulance and took it back to its place.
The aeroplane returning from the arsenal had flung three gratuitous
bombs at the camp itself, one had fallen in the Serbian hospital yard,
and had killed an Austrian prisoner; one had fallen in the top corner of
the camp field, but had not exploded.


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