The Cordova daily times., 1918-04-05
"Over the Top" By An American Soldier
 Who Went
 ARTHUR GUY EMPEY Machine Gunner Seruing in France
Copyright, 1917, by Arthur Guy BmpeJl
 CHAPTER VIII.
The Little Wooden Cross.

| i After remaining in rest billets for eight days, we received the unwelcOme tidings that the next morning we would "go in" to "take Over" At six fin the morning our march started and, after long march down the dusty road, we | again arrived at reserve billets. | I was No. 1 In the leading set of fours. The man on my left was named l Pete Walling" a cheery sort of fel- low. He laughed and joked all the | way on the march, buOylng up my l dropping spirits. could not figure out anything attractive in again occupying 1 the front line, but Pete did not seem to mind, said it was all in a lifetime. My l left heel was blistere& from the rub l ping of my heavy marching boot. Pete | noticed that I was limping and offered to carry my rife, but by this time had | learned the ethics of the march in the British army and cOurteOusly refused his offer
 We had gotten halfway through the l communication trench, Pete in my i'm mediate rear. He had his hand on my
 
 i trench have to do to keep in touch with each other. We had just climbed over a bashed-in part of the trench when in our rear man ripped over loose 1 signal wire, and let out an oath. As usual, Pete rushed to his help. To reach the fallen man he had to cross this bashed-in part. A bullet cracked 1 in tha air and duck~d TTbon o n1oon from the rear. My heart stood still |. I went back and Pete was lying on the ground. By the aid of my flashlight l saw that he had his hand pressed to i his right breast. The fingers were GOV 1 cred with blood. I flashed the light on his face and in it's glow a grayish- | blue color was stealing over his cOun- 1 tenance. Pete looked up at me and said: "Well, Tank, they've done me in. l can feel myself going West" His voice was getting fainter and had to l kneel down to get his words. Then he 1 gave me a message to write home to l his mother and his sweetheart, and I, 1 like great big boob, cried like a baby I was losing my first friend of the trenches.
 Word was passed to the rear for stretCher. He died before 1t arrived. Two of us put the body on the stretcher and carried it to the nearest | tirst-aid post, where the doctor took an official record of Pete's name, num- Der, rank and regiment from his fden- tity disk, this to be used in the cas- ualty lists and notification to his family.
 We left Pete there, but it broke our hearts to do so. The doctor informed us that we could bury him the next morning. That afternoon five of the boys of our section, myself included, went to the little ruined village in the rear and from the deserted gardens of the French chatcaux gathered grass and flowers. From these we made wreath.
 While the boys were making this wreath, I sat under q shot-scarred apple tree and carved out the follow ing verses on a little wooden shield which we nailed 0u Pete's cross,
 True to his God; true to Britain,
 Doing his duty to the last, Just one more name to be written
 On the Roll of Honor of heroes passed Passed to their God. enshrined in glory,
 Entering life of eternal rest
 One more chapter in Englands story
 Of her sons doing their best.
 Rest, you soldier. mate so true
 Never forgotten by us below;
 Know that we are thinking of you,
 Ere to our rest We are bidden to go. Next morning the whole section went over to say goOd-by to Pete and laid him away to rest
 After each one had look at the face of the dead, corporal of the R. A. Nj. c. sewed up the remains in a blan- ket. Then placing two heavy ropes across the stretcher (to be used in low ering the body into the gravel, we lift ed Pete onto the stretcher, and rev erently covered him with large union jack, the flag he had died for.
 The chaplain led the way, then came the officers of the section, followed by two of the men carrying wreath. Inn