THIS is an account of my experience whilst in Germany as a prisoner
of war in 1914, at Sennelager, near Paderborn. I was captured at Mons,
on Sunday, August 23rd, 1914. I belonged to the 2nd Battalion, Royal
Irish Regiment, and one of my comrades died from exposure early in
October of that year. Volunteers were asked to attend his funeral,
and of these I was one. The place where he was buried was a wild,
desolate moor. The morning of the funeral was very cold and sleet was
falling. We were a very miserable crowd as we stood by the graveside
whilst the English chaplain read the Burial Service over our dead
comrade. Suddenly, there stood with us a woman who remained until the
service was over. There is nothing strange in that you will think,
but the point is that none of us saw her until she stood with us and
none saw her go. Our comrade was a married man, and what we all want
to know is have we ever seen a ghost?
P.S.—We received a letter from his widow some months after, dated
before his death, imploring him for God's sake to write to her. She
had a child very ill in St. Thomas's Hospital.