Jean and St. Julien. On one corner stood an
estaminet and trenches ran all round. A chaplain was
passing, and we had a service of a minute or two. The time
was about 2 o'clock on Saturday morning. We were only able
to dig down a couple of feet, and these graves must, I fear,
have suffered from the heavy shelling which followed, but I
like to think that my chum still rests there undisturbed.
"How I got back to the barn that night I do not know. I
certainly was not my natural self, and it was more a stagger
than a march. It was impossible to realise that I should see
George no more. And on the following day I had to face the
still harder task of writing to his parents and to the girl
he had left behind."
To this, written by Sydney Baxter, I add nothing. Not to me has it
come to dig a shallow, shell-swept grave for my chum. What words,
then, have I?
One Young Man Receives a Letter
CHAPTER VI
ONE YOUNG MAN RECEIVES A LETTER
George's stepfather wrote to Sydney Baxter as soon as he received the
heartbroken letter telling of his chum's death. To this letter from
the father I devote a chapter. It must stand alone. In all the
glorious annals of the war it is, to me at least, unique. Nothing that
I can write can add to its pathos or increase its heroism or enhance
its beauty.
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