Late last night our guns opened out all over the district and apparently so annoyed Fritz that one of his planes came over this way and dropped a bomb near our horse lines. On arising we were treated to a view of much blood, innards, and several unwieldy corpses which kept the burial party busy most of the day.
My mad mare got a small piece in the shoulder and will be hors (or mule) de combat for some time. The force of the bomb was amazing, making but a little dent in the ground, but radiating with wonderful regularity, turning up the grass in strips like the spokes of a large wheel around the hub of impact.
Walk March 