Williams news., 1918-08-16
"OvER THE TOP"
(Continued)

communication trench, Pete In my tm- mediate rear. He had his hand on my shoulder. as men in a communication trench have to do to keep in touch with each other. We had just climbed over a bashed-in part of the trench when in our rear man ripped over loose signal wire, and let out an oath. As usual, Pete rushed to his help. To reach the fallen man he had to cross this bashedin part. A bullet cracked in the air and I dueked. Then a moan from the rear. My heart stood still. I went back and Pete was lying on the ground. By the aid of my fiashlight I saw that he had his hand pressed to his right breast. The fingers wer+. cov- cred with blood. I flashed the light on his face and in it's glow a grayish- blue color was stealing over his coun- tenance. Pete looked up at me and said: 'Well, Tank, they've done me in. I can feel myself going Vest" His voice was getting fainter and I had to kneel down to get his words. Then he gave me message to write home to his mother and his sweetheart, and I, like great big boob, cried like baby. I was losing my first friend of the trenches.
 Word was passed to the rear for a stretcher. He died before it arrived. Two of us put the body on the stretcher and carried it to the nearest frst-aid post. where the doctor took an official record of Pete's name, num- Der, rank and regiment from his fden- tity disk, this to be used in the cas- ualty lists and notification to his family.
 We left Pete there, but it broke our hearts to do so. The doctor informed us that we could bury him the next morning. That afternoon five of the boys of our section, myself included, went to the little ruined village in the rear and from the deserted gardens of the French chateaux gathered grass and flowers. From these we made a wreath.
 While the boys were making this wreath, I sat under a shot-scarred apple tree and carved out the follow ing verses on a little wooden shield which we nailed on Pete's cross. ,.e- True to his God; true to Britain; ,-...:
 Doing his duty to the last, t... t's Just one more name to be written |, s' On the Roll of Honor of heroes passed Passed to their God, enshrined in glory.
 Entering life of eternal rest VI |. E One more chapter in Englands story. ! Of her sons doing their best Rest, you soldier.s mate so true. r:yf,, Never forgotten by us below; Know that we are thinking of you. Ni g
 Ere to our rest we are bidden to- go. Next morning the whole section went over to say good-by to Pete, and laid him away to rest.
 Alter each one had a look at the face of the dead, a corporal Of the R. A. M. 0. sewed up the remains in a blan- ket. Then placing two heavy ropes across the stretcher (to be used in low ering the body into the gravel, we lift ed Pete onto the stretcher, and rev erently covered him with a large union jack, the flag he had, died for.
 The chaplain led the way, then came the officers of the section, followed by two of the men carrying wreath. Im- mediately after came poor Pete on the fag-draped stretcher, carried by four soldiers. I was one of the four. Be hind the Stretcher, in column of fOurs, came the remainder of the section.
 To get to the cemetery, we had to pass through the little shell-destroyed village, where troops were hurrying to and fro.
 AS the funeral procession passed these troops came tc the attention" and smartly saluted the dead.
 Poor Pete was receiving the only sa- lute private is entitled to ''some- where in France"
 Now and again shell from the Ger man lines would go whistling over the village to burst in our artillery lines in the rear.
 halted in front of an open grave, and laid the stretcher beside it.. Forming a hollow square around the opening of the grave, the chaplain read the burial service.
 German machine-gun bullets were "cracking" in the air above us, but Pete didn't mind, and neither did we.
 When the body was lowered into the grave the flag having been removed, we clicked our heels together and came to the salute.
 left before the grave was filled in. I could not bear to see the dirt thrown on the blanket-covered face of my con- rade. On the western front there are no collins, and you are lucky to get a blanket to protect you from the wet and the worms. Several of the sec tion stayed and decorated the grave with white stones.
 That night, in the light of lonely candle in the machine gunner's dugout of the front-line trench I wrote two letters. One to Pete's mother, the other to his sweetheart. While doing this I cursed the Prussian war god with all my heart, and think that St.