The independent-reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1909-1955, 1918-09-12

or MANNED. The thought made him
shndder, the cold sweat coming out In
beisis on his face.
On his left, In the darkness, he could
mike out the shadowy form. Of tres;
crn~llng on his hands ana knees. stop.
ping and crouchlng with fear AT each
shellburst, he finally reached an ola
orchard and covered at the base If o
shot-scarred apple tree.
IL remained there all nIght, listen
ing 10 the sound Of the guns and oqer
praying, praying that his useles. H.
would be spared
As dawn began to break, he could
discern little dark objects protrudin2
from the ground all about him. Cur
oslty mastered his fear and he crawlprl
to one Of the objects, and there, In Tho
uncertain light he read on little
wooden cross:
"Pte. II. S. Wheaton, No. 1870, 1st
London Regt. K. F. Killed In action.
April p, 1916 Il. L p" Crest In
Peace.
When 1t dawned on him that he had
been hiding all night In a cemetery
his reason seemed to leave him, and
mad desire to be free from 1t all made
him rush madly away, falling over lit
tie wooden crosses, smashing some and
trampllng others under his feet.
In his flight he came to an old
French dugout, half caved in and par
tally filed with Shiny and filthy wa
ter.
Like fox being chased by the
hounds, he ducked into this hole, and
threw himself on pile Of old empty
sandbags wet and widowed. Then
Inconsistencies.
On the next day, he came so; far
distant voices sounded in his ears.
Opening his eyes, In the entrance of
the dueout he saw a corporal and two
men with fixed bayoBets.
The corporal was addressing him:
Get up, you whlte-livered bllghterl
Curse you and the day you ever joined
D company. spelling their fine rec
ord It'll be you up against the wall,
and a good job too. Get hold Of him.
men, and If he makes u break, give him
the bayonet. and send 1t home, the COW
ardly sneak Come on, you, move,
we've been looking for you long
enough"
Lloyd. trembling and weakened BY
his long fast. tottefed out. assisted by
a soldier on each side of him.
They took him before the caraS
but could get nothing out Of him hut:
For Gods sake, sir, don't have me
shot, don't have me shot
The captain, utterl. GiSguSteG with
him. sent him aade. escort To division
headquarters for trial hy court-inar-
tial. charged with Go.ertiou uII-s fire.
They shoot deserters in France.
During his trial. Lloyd sat as one
dazed, and could put nothing forward
in his defense, only an occasional
Don't hive me shot"
His sentence WAS passed: ITO be
shot at 3 :3S O'Clock in the morning of
Msy Is, 1916" This meant that he
had onk one more day to live
He did not realize the awfuness of
his sentence; his brain seemed para
lyzed He knew nothing of his trip.
under guard. In motor lorry to the
sandDagged guardroom in the village,
where he was dumped on the floor and
left, while a sentry with fixed bayo-
net paced up and down in front of the
entrance.
Bully beef, water and biscuits were
left beside him for his supper.
The sentry, seeing that he ate moth
Ing, came inside and shook him by the
shoulder. saying in kind voice:
"Cheero, laddle. better eat some
thing. You'll feel better Don't give
up hope. You'll be pardoned before
morning. l know the way they run
these things. They're only trying 10
scare YOU, that's all. Come now, that's
a good lad, eat something. It'll make
the world look different to you"
The good-hearted sentry knew he
was lying about the pardon. He knew
nothing short of miracle could save
tho poor lad.
Lloyd listened eagerly to his sentry's
words, and believed them. a look of
hope came into his eyes. and he raven
ously ate the meal beside him.
In about an hours time, the chap
lain came to see him. but Lloyd would
have none of him. He wanted no par
son he was to be pardoned.
The artillery behind the lines sud
denly opened up with everything they
had. An intense bomhardment of the
enemys lines had commenced The
roar of the guns was deafening.
Lloyd's fears came back with rush.
and he covered on the earthen floor
with his hands over his face.
The sentry, seeing his position, came
In and tried to cheer him by talking to
him:
"Never mind them guns, boy, they
won't hurt you. They are ours. We
are giving the Boches a dose of their
own medicine. our boys are going over
the top nj dawn of the morning Ia take
their trenches. Wen give 'em taste
of cold steel with their sauSageS and
beer. You just sit tight now until thy
relieve you. I'll have to 60 now. lad
as It's nearly time for my relief, and l
don't want them to see me a-talkin'
with you. So long laddie, Cheero.'
With this, the sentry resumed the