MEMORIES

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3098, 31 May 1917, Page 6

MEMORIES

A SKETCH FROM THE BATTLE-FRONT

'(.By Patrick Mac Gill, Author of the "The Great Push," etc.) [The following is published by the Press Bureau, and forwarded on by the Secretary of the Royal Colonial Institute.! We're out for duration iioav ..and do not care a. cuss; There's beer to spare at dinner-time and afters now for us: But if our butties still were out in Flanders raisin' Cain We'd weather through with t-hem we knew on bully-beef again; The ole sweats— The grub it was skimp with the ole sweats— But if raslnras was small 'twas the same for us all. Same for the 'ole of the ole sweats. —From Soldier Songs. Eamou Fudagh, my Irish mate, placed his glass on Hie counter and lit a .cigarette. "Who would think that it was six mouths ago!" he remarked. "Six months. Time does lly here. It went . damned slow out in France—at times." "God, I'll never forget the night before tile charge." Eamou continued. "You mind the champagne in the billet at Jtentoul, the singin' and the fun. But we were afraid—a bit—and we did our best to hidn our funk. Poor old Kcve sittin' on the Hoor, his fingers Ktnuiunin' oil the boards, and his faceGod! it was white. I felt sorry for him, tor every one of us. I thought of the nights to come when good beer would so the rounds of many a cafe and maybe none of us (here to drink it. Anyway, we'll never drink better beer with better men again." ' , Eamon paused for a second and flicked' the ash from his cigarette; I. recollected the attack on the High Wood on the S'omme when I found Eamon lying in a shell-hole near the German lines with a bullet wound in his lung. That he survived it wa9 a miracle. "They were such grand boys, thini English mates of ours," said Eamon. "You know I never had any leaning towards them in civil life. They were Sassenach, I was Irish— you know yourself. I was brought up to distrust them. Us Irish people don't, make friends quick at all. But when I met thini boys out in France, when I came to know thim. I coulan't do enough for thini. And, God! they were all children. If they grev u henvr moustache and smoked pipes it might have been different. ,Tust to think of thim sittin' iloivn in nn estaminet. drinking beer! A robin could drink more. Babies, that is what they were. And poor Kore! lie used to put his uniform on so neat; his puttees with the proper curve, his trousers creased, his tunic brushed. One of the best, and he's dead." Eamon had a blind faith in all his friends, the "old sweats" who fought with him on many a field of death: he extolled them with pride and chamoionthem with angry vehemence'. What pride was his when complying with their many childish caprices, what genuine love, what disinterested self-sacrifice! "I mind the morning of the chars:?." Eamon continued. "Or was it the night nforo? One lost all count, of time. . . Kore came down the stairs of the billet, and he stood beside me at the door. "I'm glad you're coming up with us, Eamon," he says. "It's nice to be goin' across with you." "But I'm going with Section 3." I says to him. "The sergeant has detailed me for No. 5." y "You're not coming with us then, Eamon," he says. God! I can hear him now, and there was such a look in his eyes. I. could have caught him in my arms at that moment, just as if he'd been a child, and kissed him. "I saw him again in the trench just before we crossed the top 'Twis the last time. Ho was sitting all alone in a corner of the bay, his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees." "How goes it, Kore?" I asked. "He looked up, and his eyes were wet. One could see that he was thinking. The shells were bursting all around the sector and the bullets were rippin' the sandbags. "You must buck up, Kore," I says. "It'll be all right. Are you cold?" ' "He shivered, and did not answer. I took out my water-bottle, drew the cork, and put it to his lips." "Have a good pull," I says. "He had a good pull,.and I couldn't help laughin' at him the way he coughed and spluttered. The bottle had rum in it, not water! He stopped coughin', and '. a new light came, into his eyes. \ "You're better now?" I asked. "Oh, God, yes!" he says. "That was good stuff." He got quite cheery, lit a cigarette, and began talkin' and laughin' just tho same as .if lie was at home in England. That was the last I saw of poor Kore. About twenty minutes afterwards I. copped my own packet. "And,the corporal, too," said Eamon. alluding to the n.c.0., wOio had charge of the section. "His pride in the regiment, in his officers, in his stripes. Every stripe increased the width of bis chest. And his songs and recitations, always about England and her glory. I never met a man so honest in his beliefs, so full of conviction. I would like to see him again. He was one of the best."