The Glenwood post., 1918-06-22

to get away from that horrible din,
anywhere to safety. So quietly sneak
ing around the traverse, he came to the
entrance Of a communication trench
and ran madly and blindly down 1t,
running into traverses, stumbling into
muddy holes, and falling full length
over trench grlds.
Cropping blindly, with his arms
stretched out in front of him, he at
last came out of the trench into the
village, or what used to be village,
before the German artillery razed 1t.
Mixed with his fear, he had a Pc
culiar sort Of cunning, which whis-
pered to him to avoid all sentries, be-
cause If they saw him he would be
sent back to that awful destruction in
the front line. and perhaps be killed
or manned. The thought made him
shudder, the cold sweat coming out in
beads on his face.
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
shell-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 little
wooden cross:
'Pte. II. S. Wheaton. No. 1910, 1st
London Regt R. f. Killed in action.
| April %, 1916. r. l. P" Crest in
Peace).
When it dawned on him that he had
been hiding all night in cemetery
his reason seemed to leave him, and a
mad desire to be free from it 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 filed with Shiny and filthy wa
ter.
Like fox being chased by the
hounds, he ducked into this hole, and
threw himself on a pile of old empty
sandbags, wet and mildewed. Then
uncOnsciousnesS.
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 a 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
D company, spelling their fine rec
ord It'll 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 it 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, tottered out. assisted by
q soldier on each side Of him.
They took him before the captain.
but could get nothing out Of him but:
fOr COOS SAKE, BIZ, CONT nave mo
shot, don't have me shotw
The captain, utterly disgusted 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 az one
dazed. and could put nothing forward
in his defense, only an occasional
'Don't have me shot"
His sentence was passed: ITO be
shot at 3 :8e o'clock in the morning of
May 16, 1915" 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 a motor lorry to the
sandbagged guardroom In the village,
where he was dumped on the floor and
left while sentry with a 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