DURING the war, in the year 1916, I was in the fighting line round
Armentiers in France, and on the 13th February in the same year three
of our gunners were killed, including my devoted pal whom it was my
painful duty to bury. Time passed on and one night, after I had been
relieved from sentry duty, I went into the dugout, lit the candle,
and prepared for a sleep. I was getting into my bed, which I had made
of sandbags, and was going to light a cigarette, when the vision of
my pal came and sat beside me and said, "I am not dead yet, Jack.” The
candle was still burning and he was life itself. I could see his
lighted cigarette as the vision faded away in the corner of the
dugout. I called out to my sleeping pals and told them all about it
and they said I looked like somebody scared. I should not like to
have such an experience again. I was wide awake, and the light was
lit all through the experience.