The Sentinel=record., 1917-12-26

London. Doc. Carrying water to the thirty fighting men in the front line trenches through a dou,le har- rage Of bursting shells from both Brit ish and German guns, while the multi colored flares from the German trenches cast @ weird light over a suell-rlyen battlefield puts To test the nerve and courage of the brayest Yet the work must be done while the battle is in progress.
 Stumbling over the bodies of dead comrades or failing exhausted among them, floundering through the mud or into shell craters, the water carrier yet must struggle on till he reaches the first line unless death relieves him of the task A vivid story 2i one such journey is told by Victor Grayson formerly a member of the British parliament now serving as d private in the British army
 q found myself one of 8 party de- 1 tailed to carry up rati0ns 10 tue front line trenches through a dual bar rage" he writes We all knew that the boys up the line were to hop over at daybreak the following morning. but we were not aware until our ser geant-maior told us, that they had been without rattons for l2 hours.
 "As much as the mud would permit our pace was speeded up, and We were soon in line upon the duck-boards, tboaM walks laid in mud, myself and my immediate companions eacn laden with two petrol tins of water. The front line was about two miles away For the first part of the jour ney a bright moon made the travel ing comparatively easy But sudden | ly the duck boards ended, the moon completely disappeared, and the re sultng darkness acted like a signal to the opposing batteries. Tho air was torn with howls and shrieks of shells
 Ut became a matter of infinite care and considerable skill to pick our way between the deep shell holes, which were sometimes so close to- gcther as to be divided only by slop- ing ridge of less than a foot in wid h. The enemy was firing wild and shells were exploding on all sides with a propinquity that made Us iny0luntar- fly duck our heads and wait for the inevitable shower of dirt and mud, or worse. Every now and then man would lose his footing, and he and his cans would roll with 8 splash into a gaping shell hole.
 Tt seems inconceivable, even ir- rcverent. that one should laugh in the midst of such horrors But when ] saw my pal in front dart away from a menacing shell burst on the right. straight into the arms, so to speak. Of muddy shell hole on the left I
 laughed till stitch came into my
 side.
 P When we reached the support ! trenches. a halt was caled-not a moment GO soon-for a rest My wa ter cans had become amazingly heavy and all of us were panting as we crauched beside our comrades wnC were waiting in the support trench in reserve. ] had recently suffered from a cold, and ! heartily wished that my journey might soon end Alter five minutes We started ont again end the sergeaut-maior set pace 1 that I knew | could not sustain Grad ually ! felt myself failing behind and | every fresh effort to catch up with my party only served 10 increase ms 1 exhaustion and limit my breath. Al i last. with a feeling of utter desolatjon ] fell beside by cans. The flare re yealed 10 me that | should soon lose contact with my hurrying comrades l and the mad music of the hurtlua shells stimulated me to q fresh ct.orl For q couple of hundred yards struggled forward. but weak and be- | reft of wind. l went down once mor, and watched. with sort of guilty desperation. the rear file of my IarN 1 disappear over a ridge between tw' 1 lonely sheu stricken trees It was l terrible to feel alone on that torture, Iueld. yet 1 was not altogether alone The ftfl glares lighted lrp for m' the unmistakable faces and forms 0 Itae dead, comrades who had talle'
 on their way 10 the front line.
 "A great weariness seized me an'
 ----
 fa.