The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1918-07-04


the blank cartridge, but my mind was
at ease, there was no blood of a.
Tommy on my hands.
"Order-Arms About-Turn Pile
Arms Stand-Clear."
The stacks were reformed.
"Quick - March, Right - Wheel 20
And we left the scene of execution be-,
hind US.
1t was now daylight. After march
ing about five minutes, we were dis
missed with the following instructions
from the officer in command:
Return, alone, to your respective
companies, and remember. no talking
about this affair. or else it will go hard
with the guilty ones"
We needed no urging to get away.
did not recognize any of the men on
the firing squad; even the officer was a
stranger TO me.
The victims relations and friends in
Blighty will never know that he was
executed; they will be under the i'm
preston that he died doing his bit for
king and country.
In the public casualty lists his name
will appear under the caption "Acci-
dentally Killed." or Died.
The day after the execution I re-
ceived orders to report back to the
line, and to keep a still tongue in my
head.
Executions are q part OF the days
work, but the part we hated most of
all, Enthusiastically the saddest The
British war department is thought by
many people to be composed of rigid
regulations all wound around with red
tape. But It has a heart. and one OF
the evidences of this Is the considerate
way in which an execution is concealed
and reported TO the relative of the IN
fortunate man. They never know the
truth. He Is listed in the bulletins as
among the accidentally killed"
In the last ten years I have several
times read stories in magazines Of
towards changing, in = charge, TO he
roes. l used to laugh at IT. It seemed
easy for story-writers, but I said,
Men aren't made that way? But over
dn France I learned once that the
streak of yellow can turn all white. I
picked up the story, bit by bit, from
Fhe captain of the company, the SEN
tries who guarded the poor fellow, as
well as from my own observations. At
first I did not realize the whole of his
story, but after a week OF investiga-
ton it stood out as clear in my mind
as the mountains of my native West IN
the spring sunshine. Il impressed me
so much that / wrote it all down in
rest billets on scraps of odd paper.
The incidents are, as / say. every Bit
true; the feelings Of the man are true
Il know from all I underwent in the
fighting over in France.
We will call him Albert Lloyd. That
wasn't his name, but it will do:
Albert Lloyd was what the world
terms a coward.
IN London they called him a Stacker
His country had been at war nearly
eighteen months, and still he was not
in khaki.
He had no good reason for not en-
listing, being alone in the world, hav-
ing been educated in an orphan asy-
lun, and there being no one dependent
upon him for support. He had no good
position TO lose, and there was no
sweetheart to tell him with her lips
to go. while her eyes pleaded for, him
to stay.
Every time ne saw a recruiting SER,
geant he'd sink around the corner out
of sight, with a terrible fear gnawing
ct his heart. When passing the big re-
cruiting posters, and on his way TO
business and back he passed many, he
would pull down his cap and look the
other way from that awful finger
pointing at him, under the caption.
your King and Country Need You;"
or the boring eyes of Kitchener, which
burned into his very soul, causing him
to shudder.
Then the Zeppelin raids-during
them, he used TO crouch IN corner Of
his boarding-house cellar, whimpering
like whipped puppy and calling upon
the Lord TO protect him.
Even his landlady despised him, al
though she had to admit that he was
good pay"
He very seldom read the papers, but
one momentous morning the landlady
put the morning paper at his place be-
fore he came down TO breakfast. TAX
ing his seat he read the fiaring head
line, "Conscription Bill Passed" and
nearly tainted. Excusing himself. he
stumbled upstairs to his bedroom,
with the horror of it gnawing into his
vitals.
Having saved up a few pounds, he
decided not TO leave the house. and TO
sham sickness, so he stayed in his room
and had the landlady serve his meals
there.
Every time there was knock at the
door he trembled all over, imagining II
was policeman who had come to take
him away TO the army.
One morning his fears were realized.
Sure enough, there stood policeman
with the fatal paper. Taking it in his
trerra hlir,cr hand ho Rod fhat ha Alharf