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"Holy Mackerel" said Maguire, "That can't be Heine. He daren't fly that low."

"No" I agreed. "Besides, they won't be over here for a while yet,until----"

Just then Heine turned loose with a machine-gun. Put-put-put! And ours came back at him with Rat-tat-tat-tat! I expect he tried a few shots into the village in the hope of getting the men moving about. Then up he went; we could hear him circling above our heads, getting nicely located to drop half a ton on us. And not a thing was shooting at him but a couple of machine-guns.

Then Whang ! Whang ! Whang ! The building rocked and the windows rattled. It was only a frame shack, and I expected it to fall to pieces.

The Boche dropped ten bombs, but only three exploded. They fell in a field to the left of the hospital, and did no damage but break the windows in the operating-room; also made holes eighteen feet wide by five deep in the frozen ground. Some of the bomb splinters hit the hospital, and I have one of them for a souvenir.

One torpedo he dropped penetrated nine feet into the hard ground, but did not explode.

Well, we lay there waiting for more, because we could now hear other planes up. However, they were going after other villages; the crash of the explosions rocked the building. And though we waited in a sweating silence for three hours, no more bothered us that night. The curious part is that not a man was killed in these attacks, in any of the places.

There were some officers in the next ward to me. They made me proud of my country. When the bombs exploded, one whistled shrilly; another exclaimed--"Listen to that damn fool! " Then everybody laughed and joked one another. You'd hear cries in the dark--"Hi, take your foot out of my face " etc--and not a man had even ducked when the shocks came.

And later, when a second seemed to be circling right over us, one chap yelled cheerfully--"All right, Heine, old cock! Turn 'em loose! I'm all braced for it!"

BC Archives MS-1188 Box 1 File 4 PATTULLO, George Robson, 1845 - . Woodstock, Ontario Selected letters from his son George R. Pattullo Jr., 1917-1918.