Sunday, 30th June (1918)

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.

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