The independent-reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1909-1955, 1918-09-12
OVER THE TOP
ARTHUR Guy EMPEY

utes. we heard low whispering In our
rear and footsteps on the stone flag
/ ging of the courtyard
our officer reappeared and In a low,
but firm voice, ordered:
"About-Turn"
We turned about. In the gray light
of dawn. few yards In front of me, /
could mike out a brick wall. Against
this wall was dark form with a white
souare pinned on its Breast. We were
supposed to aim at this square. To the
right of the form noticed a white spot
on the wall This would be my target.
"Ready Aim! Fire!"
The dark form sank into a huddled
/ heap. Ny bullet sped on its way, and
hit the whitlsh spot on the wall;
could see the splinters fly. Some one
else Ind received the rifle containing
the blank cartridge, but my mind was
at ease, there was no blood of
Tommy on my hands.
"Order-Arms About-Turn Pile
Arms Stand-Clear.
The stacks were reformed.
"Ouick - March Right - Wheel I"
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 1t 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 n
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 oiled"
The day after the execution l re-
celved orders TO report back to the
line, and to keep a still tongue in my
head.
Executions are part of the days
work, but the part we hated most of
all, | think-certainIy 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 heart, and one or
the evidences of this Is the COnSiderate
way in which an execution is concealed
and reported to the relative of the I'M
fortunate man. They never know the
truth He Is listed in the bulletins as
among the accidentally killed"
In the last ten years | have several
times read stories in magazines of
towards changing, in charge, to he
roes used to laugh at 1t. 1t seemed
easy for story-writers, but | said,
Men aren't made that way But over
In France | learned once that the
streak of yellow can turn all white. |
picked up the story, bit by bit, from
the captain of the company, the SEN
tries who guarded the poor fellow, as
well as from my own observations. At
first | did not realize the whole of his
story, but after week of investiga-
ton 1t stood out as clear in my mind
as the mountains of my native West In
the spring sunshine. 1t impressed me
so much that | wrote 1t all down In
rest billets on scraps of odd paper.
The incidents are, as l say, every bit
true; the feelings of the man are true
i know from all | underwent In the
fighting over In France.
We will Gull him Albert Lloyd. That
wasn't his name, but 1t will do:
Albert Lloyd was what the world
terms a coward.
In London they called him 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-
lum, 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 he saw recruiting ser
geant he'd stink around the corner out
of sight, with a terrible fear gnawing
at 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 a 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 flaring head
line, Transcription Bill Passed" and
nearly tainted. Excusing himself, he
stumbled upstairs to his bedroom,
with the horror of 1t gnawing into his
vitals.
Having saved I'D n few pounds, he