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Germans, were youseing them machine guns, at us, it were a woded that there is one of us here to tell it, as we laid a ling that boye, in hope of geteing next to the foe. the bullets were singeing thir death song, throu the air, and they would hit the wire and glance off and hum like a bee every minut. i thought would be the last of us i listened all the time, to hear some groans from some one, and i am glad to say, but i did not hear any, yet a sound came from the boye, then a hand

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