I was pretty well out of breath by that time, so I took time out for a rest. Bill Wheeler then mentioned to me that Scott was wounded and where he was lying. I crawled about 20 yards further and there I came upon Scott and Bill Henry who was now Acting Commander of the First

Company. Scott was lying flat on his stomach with his right arm under him, his head twisted sideways. Bill Henry was pushing dirt in front.

of Scott’s head to give him some protection. At every move he made he drew fire. The fire coming from the Fascist guns was very visible. When I asked Henry how far the Fascists’ lines were he told me about 60 met- ers and that all told we had advanced about 500 to 600 meters.

I moved over to Scott. “How do you feel?” I asked him. VVith

his left hand he took hold of one of mine. No pressure. I could feel his strength slowly ebbing away. “I’m all right”, he answered. He

continued to hold my hand. I then told him I would go back and bring I

aid; he squeezed my hand hard for a few minutes and said: “Don’t do it, it’s a waste of time.” “What the hell do you mean, waste of time?” I answered, “You’re a human being, ain’t you, and besides you’re Capt-

ain Scott, see, and besides Joe Strysand will never talk to you again if I you died.” With all the suffering that he was going through a smile

came over his face; he loved Joe Strysand, his runner. I then told Henry that I was going to bring aid. I hated to break hands with Scott. It seemed as though I was giving him strength through my hand.

Instead of going back the way I came, I crawled to my left about 150

yards. There was a road, but there was a high bank to get down. No sooner had I crawled down the bank than the Fascisats opened up a

burst of fire on me. Hugging the side of the embankment I Waited till

the firing had ceased, then continued crawling on, passing a dead comr- ade in a very queer position. Knowing the ground a little I knew the First Aid station was near. I

I got up and sprinted a little, got down then, sprinted again until I finally burst right into the First Aid station. “Captain Scott’s wounded, he’s dying,” I yelled at the First Aid men, “'Wh~ere’s a stretcher? Hurry up!” Nobody paid attention to me. I then realized that they were French and Hollanders. I tried the sign language and my twelve words of Spanish. They thought I had gone crazy. Finally a Hollander who could talk English «came up to the station. I pounced on him, told him about Scott. “Look comrade”, he said, “I dont know What you’re talk- ing about. Sit down and collect yourself.” So I cooled down and told him about Scott once more. He then called together two stretcher bear- ers and we proceeded to go for Scott, with a White canvas stretcher, the only thing we could get.

The four of us went up the road about 300 yards. I then suggested

78

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