I remember distinctly putting my hands clasped above
my head to shelter it, and then my feeling of relief when, in another
instant or two, the bricks ceased to fall. The intense stillness of my
companions next dawned upon me, and a sickening dread supervened, that
one of them must surely be killed. Major Gould Adams was the first to
call out that he was all right; the other had been so suffocated by
gravel and brickdust that it was several moments before he could speak.
In a few minutes dusty forms and terrified faces appeared through the
gloom, as dense as the thickest London yellow fog, expecting to find
three mutilated corpses. Imagine their amazement at seeing three human
beings, in colour more like Red Indians than any other species, emerge
from the ruins and try to shake themselves free from the all-pervading
dust. The great thing was to get out of the place, as another shell
might follow, the enemy having seen, from the falling masonry, how
efficacious the last had been. So, feeling somewhat dazed, but really
not alarmed, as the whole thing had been too quick for fear, I groped my
way downstairs. Outside we were surrounded by more frightened people,
whom we quickly reassured. The woman cook, who had been sitting in her
bomb-proof, was quite sure _she_ had been struck, and was calling loudly
for brandy; while the rest of us got some soda-water to wash out our
throats--a necessary precaution as far as I was concerned, as mine had
only the day previously been lanced for quinsy.
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