The Hope pioneer. [volume] (Hope, N.D.) 1882-1964, 1918-08-22
CHAPTER xxlv-continued.

- - IF
-21-.
After standing at attention" for
what seemed a week, though in reality
1t could not have been over five min
utes, we heard a low whispering in
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, a few yards in front of me, I
could make out a brick wall. Against
this wall was q dark form with a white
square pinned on its breast. We were
supposed to aim at this square. To the
right of the form l noticed a white spot
on the wall. This would be my target.
"Ready! Aim! Fire|
The dark form sank into a huddled
heap. My bullet sped on its way, and
hit the whitish spot on the wall; I
could see the .splinters fly. Some
else had received the rifle containing
the blank cartridge, but my mind was
at ease, there was no blood of a
Tommy on my hands.
"Order-Arms |! About-Turn! Pile
Arms! Stand-Clear."
The stacks were reformed. \
"Quick - March! Right Wheel!"
And we left the scene Of execution be
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 it will go hard
with the guilty ones"
We needed no urging to get away. l
did not recognize any Of the men on
the firing squad; even the officer was a
stranger to me. .
The victims relations and friends in
Blighty will never know that he was
executed; they will be under the Inn
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."Died."
Tie day after the execution I re-
eeived orders to report back to the
line. and to keep a still tongue in my
head.
Executions are a part Of the days
work, but the part we hated most of
all, I think-certainly the saddest. The
British war department is thought by
many people to be composed of rigid
regulations all wound around with red
tape. But 1t has a heart, and one of
the evidences Of this is the considerate
way in which an executi0 is concealed
and reported to the relative of the un-
fortunate They never know the
truth. He is listed in the bulletins as
among the accidentally killed"
In the, last ten years I have several
times read stories In magazines OF
cowayds changing, in a charge, to he
Foes. I used to laugh at it. 1t seemed
easy for story-writers. but I said,
Men aren't made that way" But over
in France I 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 I did not realize the whole of his
story, but after a week of investiga-
ton it stood ont as clear in my mind
as the mountains of my native West In
the spring sunshine. It impressed me
so much that l wrote it all down in
rest billets on scraps of odd paper.
The incidents are, as I say, every bit
true; the feelings Of the man are true
II know from all I underwent in the
Fighting over in France.
We will call him Albert Lloyd. That
wasn't his name, but it will do:
Albert Lloyd was what the world
terms q coward.
In London they called him a Stacker.
His country had been at war nearly
eighteen months, AMI still he was not
IN khaki. f
He had no good reason for not en-
1irting. being alone in the world. hav'
ing been educated in an orphan asy'
sun, and there being no one dependent