John dashed across to Archer. ‘How do you feel?’ Archer was struggling to tie his field dressing across his arm. Blood was still flowing from the wound, bright red against the dull khaki of his sleeve. ‘Here let me have that,’ John said and fastened the bandage firm. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked again.
‘I’ll be jake, sir. It’ll take more than a bit of a cut arm to put me out of it.’
‘Good man. Keep with Two section,’ John said. The wound was more than a bit of a cut, but he was pleased with Archer’s attitude. He crawled away to check Number 3 section. Before he was back to his position an order passed along that their attack had been postponed and they were to return to the newly captured trench. More men dropped before they reached safety.
The survivors barely had time to catch their br
