THE DESERTER

Dominion, Volume 12, Issue 81, 31 December 1918, Page 5

THE DESERTER

. A WARTIME SKETCH (By Lieutenant F. J. Sleath.) The officer slid into a shellhole as the Germans approached him, and crouched down in the muddy bottom hoping against hope that ho had not been observed. As he shrewdly suspected, lie was lost behind the first German outpost line; and for tho life of him he did* not know which wny to go to regain his own positions.

That evening he had come out on patrol in an endeavour to locate a hostile machine-gun post 'from which the Germans were harassing his company. The line in his quarter consisted of a string of fortified shollholes, with few well defined local landmarks even in the day time. During the night, patrolling could only be done by keeping a very careful eye on the compass. To his horror, shortly after locating the hostile post, the officer found that he had lost his compass. Thereafter ho find crawled aimlessly about No Man's Land, until the approach of tho German working party compelled him lo take shelter. Ho tiaw them dimly, moving about near his hiding place, now walking from one point, to anolhpr, now stopping to labour whero they h.'ilted. They, reminded him of a browsing herd of cattle moving from feeding place lo feeding place. Ho knew what they were busy at. They were si ripping the' dend. That was how he had identified them as Germans. It was much too dark to seo anything but the vague forms.

The last divisional summary of intelligence had contained a mention of this German practice, evidence of which had lately been noticed in front, of his feetor; "and ho could remember feeling pleased at the time that the enemy should be reduced to such straits for material. Now the actual thing filled him with loathing. A naked corpse lay on the edge of his shellhole. Ho had touched it when sliding to shelter; and in spile of the nearness of his enemy ho had almost yelled out in horror. But he knew from ihe fact of that corpse's presence that his shelter had already been visited and searched. And so he lay watching the ghouls at their work, tolerably certain that he would not be discovered, vet longing for them to move off a little, so that he might make a bid once again for his own lines. Sometimes a laugh would come out of the night, the finality of which nearly drove hiin into the open with his revolver in search of the mocker.

At lost the bobbing forms were no longer visible. The. sounds of tho strippers came faintly from some distance away on his right, and rising from his shellhole, M headed away from tho Germans. Suddenly a voice speaking in English hailed him in a hoarse undertone from the darkness. He sank hastily to the. ground with his revolver at the ready. Then the voice hailed him again. "Englishman, I am a friend," it said. A dark form seemed to rise out of the ground at his side. "I saw you hido in thai shellhole," said the voice, in perfect English- "I wailed behind to sneak to you. You are lost, eh? I will show you the way back. lam o, Saxon, not a Prussian." He was, he said, a middle-aged working man, a Socialist, who six months before had gone out on strike with his fellows against the severe conditions under which they laboured. Hours had been long, pay little, and food scarce.. His comrades ' had appointed him as spokesman to voice their grievances. But once certain concessions had been granted thorn, they allowed their leaders to bear the brunt of the victimisation policy tfhieh followed. This man nnd several other bold spirits were sent to the army, in spile of their years (o be employed as working parties for stripping the dead, and clearing up the field of battle

After the working party had once again faded into the darkness Fritz led the way out of the shellhole towards the British lines. When outside the last German defence post lie paused and pointed out the direction to his companion. "That is yoirr way," he said, and disappeared into the shadows. Tho officer hesitated for a moment, uncertain of the man's intention. Then he hastened towards his own lines lest his strange guide migiii suddenly repent of his helplessness. All (lie way across he felt as though someone was following almost at liis eibow. At last the impression grew into a certainty, and he slipped out of sight into a shdlliole. A form loomed stealthily vp from the rear, passed the shellhole. and halted undecidedly. It was tho old Saxon workman. "What is your game, Mcin Kerr?" asked the officer, rising up beside him. The Gorman ducked nervously to cover, looking towards the British lines as though afraid of the noise attracting a rifle bullet. "T wish to surrender," lie said. "I am tired of staying on our sjt'e of the line among the dead and (he rubbish." "Is that why you followed me?" "Yes! J was afraid to come alone. Our officers tell 1113 that tho British soldier kills his prisoners. There have been many desertions lately." he added, as Himteh to explain thnt bo saw thrmich his oificers' story "But I did not know, and T thought if T came with you T would be safer." The officer paused undecidedly. He felt that lie owed this man much, and to encourage him in such a crime as desertion seemed a poor way of repaying the obligation. "TJo you realise what desertion means? 'Have, you no friends to consider?" he asked. "I Ink! n wife, a young wife, six months ago," replied (lie Saxon. "Hut Germany is not a nice place now for a wife to live- in when her husband is 1 removed from her. I havo no wife now." Without another word the officer led ] him into the British lines. 1