'Poor Lusk was hit shortly after noon on Christmas Day. He had come
up to the trenches[1] for his usual morning tour along with Major
Graham. He had looked into Keith's and my 'dug-out,' and then gone
along into 'A' Company's lines himself, the C.O. (Major Graham)
having preceded him by a few minutes, when the trench-mortar came
that laid him out.
[1] This was near Thiepval.
'He apparently did not hear or see the mortar coming. It was one of
these infernal 'oil cans' (a cylindrical shaped object about two feet
long and nine inches in diameter, filled with explosive); it landed
on the parapet, and blew him against the corner of a communication
trench which he was just passing. His ear was badly lacerated, and
he was buried up to the shoulders in the falling debris (sand-bags,
mud, &c.). It was only a matter of seconds before there was somebody
there digging him out, which was done in five or ten minutes. The
M.O., who was in the trenches at the time, bandaged him up, and he
was carried out. I believe he was more or less conscious all the
time, though he didn't appear to hear properly. Either the shock of
the explosion, or his fall against the trench, broke the vertebrae of
his neck. He passed away in Hospital at Amiens on the evening of the
28th December.
'Major Graham, the Padre and our M.O., myself and twenty men were
present at his funeral which took place at 3.30 p.m. on the 30th. He
is buried a mile and a half or so out of Amiens.
'I can appreciate how great must be the loss to you all. He was out
here for one thing, and that was to give his best for the job he was
on, and he gave it all the time. He seemed to be everything the
average fellow would like to be, but never is. He was the best of
all.'
The Rev. Alfred Coutts, the Chaplain of the Battalion, wrote on the
evening of Christmas Day:--
'Colonel Kay is home on leave this week, or I feel sure he would have
wished to write to you himself, and express the profound sorrow of
every Officer and man in the Battalion, that your son Captain Lusk
was unfortunately wounded in the trenches this morning. He had not
been long there before a German trench-mortar fired the 'oil can' as
the soldiers call it, which exploded near the trench along which he
was passing at the time. Happily the Medical Officer, Dr. Rawlins,
was visiting the trenches, and was at your son's side within two
minutes. He was very quickly got down to headquarters in the
village, where he was further attended to, and the Doctor afterwards
went to the Field Ambulance with him. There it was decided to send
the patient to the Hospital at Amiens without delay. He is wounded
in the head--about the left ear--but he spoke to the Medical Officer
quite calmly and rationally, and asked about the nature of his wound.
As you can readily understand, he is suffering considerably from
shock, but the Regimental Doctor and the Doctors of the Field
Ambulance were unable to say more. A further medical examination
would take place at Amiens, where they have X-ray apparatus. He bore
the journey by motor to the Field Ambulance well, and we are all
hoping to hear good news about him in a day or two. It has been a
sad Christmas for his comrades here, for Captain Lusk was the
honoured and beloved friend and brother of us all. Absolutely
fearless at all times, he has greatly impressed us by his goodness.
I shall miss very much his kindly presence--for he has been most
helpful to me in my work.'
Captain Lusk's orderly, Private Isaac Devon, has told us that when he
was hit, he was in the act of distributing cigarettes to the men in
the trenches, and wishing them a Happy Christmas. The following is
from a letter which Private Devon wrote to his wife on the night of
Christmas Day:--
'It is with a very sore heart I write to you to-night. My dear
Captain was wounded to-day very seriously, and I can't tell how much
yet. I am in Hospital just now with him; the doctors are operating
on him with X-rays.... He is very done. I am so sorry for his poor
Mother. This has been a bad Christmas for us. Oh, my poor Captain
... he knew me, and knows I am near him. His wounds are mostly about
the head. It was a trench mortar. He was buried and we had to dig
him out. But I hope he pulls through; the doctor that dressed him at
the trenches told me the shock is the worst; but I am afraid he is
disfigured for life. I am waiting to hear how the operation goes on.
I can't tell you any more to-night, but I will be with him till he is
sent to England if he is spared. I will give you full news
to-morrow.... you know how I am upset about him.'
Kind letters came also from the Chaplains, the Doctor and the Sister
in the South Midland Casualty Clearing Station at Amiens; and he was
at the last laid to rest by the Chaplain and some of his comrades in
the Battalion which he had loved so well:--
'JANUARY 10, 1916.
'I shall never forget Christmas Day here, and your brother will
always be linked in my memory with it. Sorrow and joy were
intermingled during that day in a strange and wonderful way. I
dressed as Father Christmas, and went round all the Wards with a
present for each man... Then at the close of the day came the
summons to see your brother. He had been put to bed and everything
possible had been done to restore his circulation. He was very glad
I had come. He was too weak to bear much, but I sat by his side for
about three-quarters of an hour. The lights had been turned low, but
I prayed quietly by his bedside, as is my custom when quietness is an
absolute necessity. It was a sad close to Christmas Day, seated by
the bedside of one who had been so badly hurt.
'Next morning he had brightened up considerably, and was very
grateful that I had seen him the previous night. He gave me his
Mother's address, and was most anxious that I should not say too much
about his injuries. There seemed a possibility of his recovery; my
judgment was in suspense about that, but I was not without hope.
Next day I brought a pot of white primulas. He wanted them put where
he could see them. So I arranged them high enough where his eyes
could always rest upon their white beauty. "These mean that Spring
is coming," I said to him, but I did not know then how near Eternal
Spring was to him....
'He was most gracious and gentle in his ways, and so thankful for all
that was done.'