The Birmingham age-herald., 1917-05-27

<AuAnOF WHO 1S NOW d SOA0h
 Fra London, May 1s-The bullet hit Private Lalor in the knee and he went down Tn the mud. His mate on the right look ed at him for moment, muttered some thing about horrid luck and went for ward, leaving the wounded man alone, lying there on the rim of a shell crater. Lalors eyes followed the advancing line, saw it pass through the barbed wire en- tanglement and cross the German first line trench. Then a machine gun came Into play and the bullets hissed by the head of Lalor
 Not healthy this place." he muttered and rolled himself backwards into the shell-hole and comparative safety The crater was half full of water which en- gulfed Lalor's haversack and rose to the middle button of his tunic.
 Not much Of billet this,' he said, trying to raise his wounded leg The movement was a monstrous futiity; his leg was useless and the nerves were transmitting an incessant message of pain to the brain. The machine gun bullets were whisking snatches of dirt from the rim of the shell crater
 "I suppose I'm bleeding said Labor as he pressed his head against the mud. T wonder how long it takes a man to bleed to death Mayoe the stretcher- bearers will be here in a little. There, the pains going, so I'll have a cigarette {" He raised his head carefully, unbuttoned the flap of the top pocket of his tunic and bought out his cigarette-case, found cigarette and put 1t in his mo,'th.
 Now, a match and I'll be all sight," {" he said, and at the same moment he realized that his matches were keptAin a pocket far beneath the third button of his tunic. Then he used words which are not used in a drawing room. But one need not make excuses for the language of wounded soldier who finds an un- lighted cigarette fin his mouth and knows that the matches are wet and useless in his pocket.
 'Ello T Ello-
 What the devils that?" Labor asked distance. 'I suppose it's some poor devil yelling for help, trusting that the stretch CT bearers twill hear him.
 ''Ello-o-o-!"
 "He must have caught it bad" said Lalor But I wish he'd stop the row. It's getting on my nervesv'
 'Ello-o-o-ov'
 The machine gun had apparently ceased It's work for the moment-jammed or
 
 right and looked over the rim of his own private shell-hoe But there was very little to be seen and nothing that Labor had never seen before. Nearby vas a shell-crater, further off another, then another. Here and there were dud shells and dead men and strands of barb ed wire fair distance off could be seen strecher- bearers carrying the wounded back to the home trenches, and Labor wondered how long 1t would be be- fore he was discovered. If he had only match to light his cigarette.
 "Ello-o-o-o
 "Oh, there he is,' said Labor looking to the right. helmet and head stuck up over a shell-hole some 50 yards away and the helmet and head belonged to the man who was making the field of battle hideous with his yells. Lalor recognized the man. He was one af his mates. a Cockney named Higgies.
 "Ello- o-o-o-o!"
 What the devil are you yelling about Hggles?" Labor called across"
 T want to find a bloomin' stretcher- bearer" Higgles yelled in answer. Got bad packet, then?" Labor in- quired.
 Bad enough chummy," was Higgles reply But wot I want is a fag'
 Have you got matches?" Labor in- quired.
 Matches, chummy!' shouted Higgles. Course I've matches. But wot's the