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Updated: May 12, 2025
Sickel declined the draught with impatience. "Get away with your slops, you bone-breaker!" he said; "but if you've got any brandy I'll have it." The hospital-orderly had none. "Well, what's the matter with you, then?" he asked. "Something's wrong with my pins," answered the driver, and pointed to his leg. "Is that it?" said the orderly. "You don't seem very bad on the whole.
With drooping head the gelding stood there limp and spiritless. He had refused his food that morning. What could one do mounted on a sick wheeler? Sickel had told the gun-leader about this; but it was too late to replace the horse, as the baggage-waggon was already under weigh. Poor Turk must do for to-day somehow.
Heppner caught sight of Sickel at once. He lay with his left leg under the Turk's body, and was shielding himself behind the neck of the gelding to avoid being struck by the hoofs of the centre horse, who was kicking furiously. "Here! Vogt and Truchsess!" commanded Heppner. "We'll pull him out." They grasped the bombardier under the arms and tried to drag him out from under the horse.
The near centre horse was uninjured, but Eidechse had a gaping wound in the buttock. Wolf had to hold her by the snaffle, and found it difficult to manage her. The near wheeler got up readily; but the Turk, beneath whose body Sickel was writhing in agony, was badly hurt. The near hind fetlock seemed to be crushed.
Suddenly he turned his head to one side and listened. "The doctor is coming," he said. Immediately afterwards the portly assistant medical-officer, Rademacher, came down into the hollow. "Well, what is the matter here?" he asked. He turned first of all to the driver, but Sickel motioned him away; "Excuse me, sir, but there's plenty of time for me. The other man there needs you more."
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