Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1918-02-21

! the ROVER OF London
He thought minute or two and
answered: Well, what of it, one
nag 8 as good as another and as for
the bloomin' King what did he ever
do for you but make you pay taxes
so he could bloomin' we'll sit around
doing nothing"
This was too much for me, that
blinkin' jellyfish a singing mud at
our King, so l lost my temper. and
taking my glass of Vim Rouge in my
| hand L leaned over close to him and
said: When you mentions the
Kings name is 1t customary to drink
his health. Perhaps he never did
anything special for me, but l have
never done anything special for him.
and even at that I've done n damned
sight more than YOU have for him,
| so take this wine and drink his
health, or III dent that napper of
yours so you won't be able to wear
that in hat of yours
He got kind of pale and answer
ed: Drink the Kings health. not
| likely. It's through him and his
bloody top hats in parliament that
I'm out here. Why in the blinking
hell don't he do his own lighting and
let us poor blokes alone
Il saw red and was just going to
hit him, when a big Irishman out OF
the Royal Irish Rifles next to me
grabs the glass of wine from my
hand, and looking the blighter in
the face yells at him:
We'll, if the King amt done moth
ing for you English. he's done less
for us Irish. but / volunteered To
come out here for him, and here I
am, and glad of it, too. and hopes
some day TO get into Berlin with the
Kings forces. You won't drink his
health; well. you can battle his
health With that he threw the
wine into the blighter's face and
smashed him in the nose with his
fist. The fellow went over like log
with the Irishman still agoin' for
him. If we hadn't of pulled him
off / think he would have killed
that conscientious objector The
military police came in to see what
all the row was about. l had clicked
three days c. B. (confined to bar
racks) and didn't want to get ar
rested so in the confusion l made
tracks for my billet.
The next time l met the bloke
was when we buried old Smith out
of the 10th Platoon in the cemetery
at La Bassee. He was one of the
grave diggers. All during the burial
service he stood looking at the Union
Jack with a queer look on his face. |
When old Smith was lowered into !
the ground and the dirt was thrown |
on him. the Conscientious objector, |
Watkins was his name, came over to |
me and said:
Il hear he (pointing at old |
Smiths grave) is forty-eight years |
old and has left wife and three |
nippers back in Blighty. He was too |
old for the draft. wasn't he? Then !
he must have volunteered"
II answered.: OF course he vol |
unteered. and there he lies, deader |
than hell, but I'll wager quid his |
wife and kids will be proud of him |
and that's more than your Kids |
will be about you.
He sneaked off without answer
ing. Three days later 1 nearly |
dropped dead when our lance cor |
poral came into our billet with a |
bloody nose and a beautifully trim !
med lamp. When / asked him how |
he got knocked about. he told me |
a fellow out of the Non-Combatant |
Corps, named Watkins, has mussed
him up just because he had called |
him a white-livered coward.
Watkins ducked twenty-one days
No. 1 on the wheel and when his |
sentence was lllllSilth lhNS II ans
ferred him to a fighting unit and |
bang! into our platoon he comes.
MANY a talk l had with him
about that pacifist stuff-he hadn't
changed a bit in his ideas-but he
kept his mouth shut about the King
and the Top Hats at home.
Then we went into the trenches
and l knew his finish was near. A
firing squad or rest in peace was to
be his lot: they all get one of the
other sooner or later.
After two days in, Fritz got
rough and opened up with a pretty
stiff bombardment.
Watkins was in the fourth squad
in a dugout in the support trench
when a Minnie registered a direct
hit on the roof and caved her in.
Everyone but Watkins was killed.
How he escaped was a marvel. the |
rest of the squad being smashed up
awful. We collected the
pieces and buried them the next
day Watkins helped dig the graves.
"For two days Watkins scarcely
spoke word, just went round with
a far away look on his face"
ION the third night after the
burial, volunteers We're called for
bombing raid, and l could scarcely
believe my ears when l hear that
Watkins had volunteered. 1t was
the truth all right-he went along.
I'VE crawled out into No Mans
land under cover of our barrage and
waited Watkins was next to me.
a star sheel went up and
we crouched down in it's light I
was laying so that l could see Wat
me-he had no rife or
bayonet. l whispered over to him
Where's your rife?' He answered
Il threw it away Before 1 had time
to reply the signal to rush the Ger
man trench was given and l lost
sight of him."
lit was rough going in the Ger
man trench and we had quite little
of hand to hand fighting. Star
shells were going up all around us.
One of our blokes in front of me
was just going around the corner of
a traverse when a big German got
him through the troat with his bay
onet and he went down. Something
snrang past me like a wild cat and
closed with the Fritz. They both
went down together. Just then an
other German came at me from the |
entrance of a dugout and l was busy. |
managed to get him. Then our
lieutenant and two men came round.
gave the order to get back to our
trenches. The lieutenant stumbled /
over the three bodies in front of me.
one of them groaned. 1t was Wat
kins all right. Unarmed he had |
sprang at the German and with his
bare hands had choked him to death
but he had a nasty Jagged bayonet
wound in his right side. We man
a god IN ret him hack to our trnnrh-