Half an hour later we erected a wooden cross in Tommy's grave-strewn garden. It bore the following inscription written in pencil:
Pte. # 4326 MacDonald.
Pte. # 7864 Gardner.
Pte. # 9851 Preston.
Pte. # 6940 Allen.
Royal Fusiliers.
"They did their bit."
Quietly we slipped back into the trench and piled our picks and shovels on the parados.
"Got yer mouth-organ 'andy, Nobby?" some one asked.
"She's always 'andy. Wot'll you 'ave, lads?"
"Give us 'Silk 'At Nat Tony.' That's a proper funeral 'ymn."
"Right you are! Sing up, now!"
And then we sang Tommy's favorite kind of requiem:—
"I'm Silk Hat Nat Tony,
I'm down and I'm stony: