The Aberdeen weekly. [volume] (Aberdeen, Miss.) 1878-1933, 1918-08-30

CHAPTER XxlV-Cont'hueo'
p
On his left. in the darkness. he couio
make out the shadowy forms OF trees
crawling on his hands and knees, stop
ping and crouching with fear Ut eaci
shelI-burst, he finally reached an oio
orchard and covered at the base oil
shot-scarred apple tree
He remained there all night hsteh'
ing to the sound of the guns and ever
praying. praying that his useless lie
would be spared
AS dawn began TO break, he could
discern little dark objects profrudins
from the ground all about him. Curl
osity mastered his fear and he craWleu
to one of the objects, and there, lp the
uncertain light, he read on a httie
wooden cross:
PIE. III. S. Wheaton, No. 1910, 1st
London Regt. r. +. Killed in action
April 70, 1916. II. ]. f." Crest IN
Peace).
When it dawned on him tsat he mao
been hiding all night in cemetery
his reason seemed to leave HIN, and
mad desire to be free fypm = all made
him rush madly away. falling over III
tie wooden crosses, smashing some ana
trampling others under his feet.
II his flight he came to an old
Fren ., dugout. half csved in ana par
ticlly filed with Shiny and filthy wa
ter.
Like fox being chased by the
hounds, he ducked into this hole, ana
threw himself on pile of old empty
sandbags. wet and widowed. Then
unconsciousness.
ON the .ext day he came to; far
distant voices sounded in his ears.
Opening his eyes, in the entrance OF
the dugout he saw n corporal ana TWO
men with fixed bayonets.
The corporal was addressing him:
Get up, you white-livered Brighter
Curse you and the day you ever joined
d company, spelling their fine rec
ord, It'll be you up against the wall.
and n good job too. Get hold OF hin.
men, and if he makes a break. give him
the bayonet and send it home. the cow
ardiy 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
a soldier on each side of him.
They took him before tlfe captain,
but could get nothing out of him but:
For Gou's sake. sir, don't have me
shot. don't have me shot -
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 as 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 ut 3 :3S o'clock in the morning of
May IS, 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 n motor lorry to the
guaEjroom in the village.
where ne was dumped on the floor and
left. while sentry with n 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
saying in kind voice:
"Cheero, laddic. better eat some
thing. You'll feel better. Don't give
up hope. You'll be pardoned before
moning. / 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 a miracle could save
the 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 bombardment Of the
enemy's lines had commenced. The
roar Of the guns was deafenlng.
Lloyd's fears came back with q rush,
md he covered on the earthen floor
Nth his hands over his face.
The sentry. seeing his position, came
= and tried to cheer him by talking TO
him:
Never mind them guns. boy, they
won't hurt you. They are ours. We
- giving the Boches = dose Of their |
pwn nedic1ne. cur boys are gol:g over |
H. top ct dawn Of the morning to take |!
|ke1F trenches. Wen give 'em Z taste /
= cd steel with their sausaxes and |