A stretcher-bearer at the front has little of the excitement of war, and weary hours of dull work come his way when the excitement is over.
CHAPTER XIV
The Chaplain
The moon looks down upon a ghost-like figure,
Delving a furrow in the cold, damp sod,
The grave is ready, and the lonely digger
Leaves the departed to their rest and God.
I shape a little cross and plant it deep
To mark the dug-out where my comrades sleep.
"I wish I was in the Ladies' Volunteer Corps," said Bill Teake next day, as he sat on the fire-step of the trench and looked at the illustrated daily which had been used in packing a parcel from home.
"Why?" I asked.
"They were in bathing last week," said Teake. "Their picture is here; fine girls they are, too! Oh, blimey!" Bill exclaimed as he glanced at the date on the paper. "This 'ere photo was took last June."
"And this is the 28th of September," said Pryor.
We needed a rest now, but we still were in the trenches by the village, holding on and hoping that fresh troops would come up and relieve us.