Mountain Home Republican. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1915-1946, 1918-09-07
CHAPTER xxIV--continued.

On his left, In the darkness, he could
make out the shadowy forms Of trees
crawling on his hands and knees, stop
ping and crouching with fear at each
shelI-burst, he finally reached an old
orchard and covered at the base OF a
shot-scarred apple tree.
He remained there all night, listen
ing to the sound of the guns and ever
praying, praying that his useless life
would be spared.
AS dawn began to break, he could
discern little dark objects protruding
from the ground all about him. Curl
osity mastered his fear and he crawled
to one of the objects, and there. in the
uncertain light, he read on a little
wooden cross:
"Pte. H. S. Wheaton, No. 1910, list
London Regt. II. &. Killed in action,
April 25. 1916. II. I. P" tRest in
Peace).
When 1t dawned on him that he had
been hiding all night in a cemetery
his reason seemed to leave him, and a
mad desire to be free from 1t all made
him rush madly away, falling over lit
tie wooden crosses, smashing some and
trampling others under his feet.
In his flight he came to an old
French dugout, half caved In and par
TALLY filled with shiny and filthy wa
ter.
Like a 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 to; far
distant voices sounded in his ears.
Opening his eyes, in the entrance of
the dugout he saw corporal and two
men with fixed bayonets.
The corporal was addressing him:
Get up, You white-livered blighter !
Curse you and the day you ever Joined
ID company, spelling their fine rec
ord TIN be you up against the wall,
and good Job too. Get hold Of him,
men, and If he makes break give him
the bayonet, and send 1t home, the cow
nrdly sneak. Come on, you. move,
we've been looking for you long
enough"
Lloyd, trembling and weakened by
his long fast, tottered out. assisted by
soldier on each side of him.
They took him before the captain,
but could get nothing out of him but:
FOR Gods sake, sir, don't have me
shot, don't have me shot"
The captain, utterly Disguised with
him, sent him under escort to division
headquarters for trial by court-mar-
tial, charged with desertion under 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 have me shotw
His sentence was passed: "To be
shot at 3 :3S o'clock in the morning of
May 1s, 1916" This meant that he
had only one more day to live.
He did not realize the awfulness of
his sentence; his brain seemed para
lyzed. He knew nothing of his trip,
under guard, In motor lorry to the
sandbagged guardroom in the village,
where he was dumped on the floor and
left while q 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, laddie, 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 to
scare you, that's all. Come now, that's
a good lad eat something, tn 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
the poor lad.
Lloyd listened eagerly to his sentry's
words, and believed them. A leok 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 sue
| SauIv annuau I'm with ayarvfhtnu thar