I WISH to record an experience that befell me while I was on active
service in France. It was during the Battles of the Somme in 1916. I
was attached to a Lewis gun team in my regiment during the attacks on
Ginchy and Guillemont. One night I was on my post, between the hours
of ten and twelve, when I was relieved by the next sentry. I retired
to an unoccupied dugout fifteen yards away to grasp a few hours
sleep. I had just crawled in and dropped down to sleep when I was
awakened by a voice calling me by my christian name. I sat up to
ponder over it and, when I convinced myself that I was alone in the
dugout, and no one within fifteen to twenty yards, I considered it
was only imagination, so I dropped down again and, after a space of
two minutes, I was called again by my name. Once more I took it to be
sheer imagination, and again I lowered my head to sleep when, to my
amazement, I was called the third time in a more distinct voice. This
time I sat up and plainly saw a dim blue light going out of the
dugout door.
I immediately arose and followed it outside, but no one could I
see—only the occasional burst of the German shells. I shrugged my
shoulders and went up to my sentry post to ease my mind of the
matter. I had just walked about fifteen yards away when a German 5.9
shell landed in the dugout and blew it to pieces—a grand escape, and I
attribute it to the warning of a friendly ghost. On another occasion
when my life was in danger the same voice called again three times.