wild fight and lack of sleep. You need a rest--not a coffin."
"I know what I want," he repeated with calm insistence, "and it's four
coffins--to bury four of my officers."
Jack thought the man's reason had gone as a result of the terrific
strain, but decided to humour him.
"Come over to my billet with me and get a shave, a wash and a good glass
of grog, and then when you're feeling better we'll go out together and
get what you want, and I'll go back to the lines with you."
The colonel passed his hand across his forehead as though he were trying
without success to recollect something, and then without a word suffered
Jack to take his arm and lead him away. When they arrived at the billet
Jack gave him a stiff glass of brandy and asked him to lie down while
the water was being heated for his bath. Before it was ready he had
fallen sound asleep and Jack did not disturb him for a couple of hours,
when he was aroused with difficulty.
The batman meanwhile brushed the caked mud from his clothes, and by the
time he had had a bath and a shave and a bite of lunch he had begun to
look more like himself. He seemed greatly depressed and talked little;
he was like a man walking in his sleep and still in the throes of a
gruesome nightmare.
As they started off up the street of the village Jack remarked: "You
don't really want those coffins for which you asked me this morning, do
you?"
The colonel looked uncomprehendingly at him. Without answering the
question, he asked in return:
"Is there a florist's shop in the village?"
"Well, not exactly a 'florist's,'" Jack replied, "but there is a place
at the far end of the street where we might get some flowers."
"Let us go there!"
He spoke no further word until they arrived at the little house which
Jack pointed out as a likely place. They entered the room and after
some slight delay madame produced a vase filled with deep red roses.
The colonel selected four of the largest, paid the woman and without a
comment walked out with the roses in his hand.
"Get me a motor car," he said to Jack; "we have several miles to go."
The mechanical transport supplied them with a small car and they started
on their strange mission. They pulled up a few miles back of the firing
line and tramped silently across the fields, the colonel still clutching
the roses, until they came to a spot where a number of Tommies were
standing by four open graves which they had just dug. Beside the graves
rested four shapeless bundles covered with blankets.
"Do you know the burial service?" the colonel asked Jack suddenly.
"I'm afraid I don't remember it well enough to repeat it," Jack replied.
"It doesn't matter much," he went on thoughtfully, "I can say it
myself."
The men got ready with their ropes to lower the packages, one by one,
into their respective resting places. It was all that was left of four
gallant officers of a gallant battalion. The colonel repeated the
burial service from memory, word for word:
"Ashes to ashes--dust to dust..."
But before the earth closed over them he stood at the foot of each
grave, silent as the grave itself, and dropping a rose tenderly upon
each stood at attention, his right hand at the "salute." As the earth
fell dully upon the blankets he turned away with tears in his eyes and
said simply:
"Poor brave chaps! I loved them all! God keep them. They did their
duty!"
It was ten o'clock at night as Reggy and I, crossing the tracks at the
_Gare Maritime_ in Boulogne, saw a battalion which had just disembarked
from the cross-channel boat drawn up on the quay, ready to entrain for
the front.
We walked toward them in a spirit of idle curiosity--for the sight was
one to which we were well accustomed--when, under the dim light of a
partly shaded street lamp, we noticed that they were from home. We
approached a little group of officers who were chatting animatedly
together, and among them found several whom we knew.
"What's the truth about this big show the Canadians are in at the
front?" one cried. "There are all sorts of rumours in England. Some say
eight hundred casualties; some say eight _thousand_."
"I'm afraid eight thousand is nearer the mark," I replied hesitatingly,
fearing to discourage them.
"Eight thousand!" he echoed; and then an eager cry went up from the
little group:
"By Jove! Hope they'll hurry us on to the front!"
And I was afraid of discouraging them! How little I understood my own
countrymen!
"All aboard!" came the call a moment later, and the enthusiastic Tommies
eagerly clambered into the waiting coaches. As the train clank-clanked
along the street and left us standing there alone in the darkness, back
to our ears came the familiar but ribald strain of "Hail, hail, the
gang's all here!"
No matter in what strange words it may find vent, the care-free spirit
of song is the true spirit of the army.
"You can't discourage men like that," said Reggy with a smile half
amusement and half unconscious pride.
And each occupied with his own thoughts we turned and walked silently
down the quay.
THE END