The author was hit by a broken bottle

Directions: Read the following passage and answer the question.

Our home stood behind the railroad tracks. Its skimpy yard was paved with black cinders. The only touch of green we could see was far away, beyond the track, over where the white folks lived. However, cinders were fine weapons. All you had to do was crouch behind the brick pillars of a house with your hands full of gritty ammunition. And the first woolly black head you saw from behind another row of pillars was your target. It was fun.
One day the gang to which I belonged, found itself engaged in a war with the white boys who lived beyond the tracks. As usual, we laid down our cinder barrage thinking this would wipe the white boys out. But they replied with a steady bombardment of broken bottles. We retreated. During the retreat, a broken milk bottle caught me behind the ear,  opening a deep gash. The sight of blood pouring over my face completely demoralised our ranks. My fellow combatants left me standing paralyzed in the centre of the yard and scurried for their houses. A kind neighbour saw me and rushed me to a doctor.