The Ministry has made no charge
For earth that warms to April's kiss;
They haven't taxed the cuckoo!
O.S.
A VOLUNTEER CASUALTY.
We were "standing easy" prior to the assault on the undefended heights of Spanker's Hill when the voice of the platoon-commander disturbed our thoughts of home and loved ones, and particularly of our Sunday dinners, which would be very much out of season before we could get at them.
"Number 4," he said, in a tone that thrilled us to the bottom twist of our puttees, "these Body-Snatchers (thus coarsely he alluded to the Ambulance Section) have been following us all day and haven't had a single casualty so far. That is why, in the coming advance, I shall be wounded. Sergeant, you will take over the command, should the worst befall. Smith and Williams, as you are both big and heavy, you'd better be knocked out too."
It was with mingled feelings that I heard my name mentioned. In the first place, a feeling of annoyance was engendered at having my proportions thus publicly referred to. But other, and I trust worthier, thoughts came to me, and, turning to my neighbour, I gave him a few last messages of a suitably moving nature to be delivered to my friends. The kind-hearted fellow was deeply affected, and in a voice broken by emotion offered to take charge of my loose change, and asked for my watch as a keepsake. I thanked him with tears in my eyes, but said that the burial party would forward all my valuables to my relations.
Our conversation was interrupted by the command "Platoon—'SHUN. To the left, to six paces, ex-TEND." By an oversight the preliminary formation usually adopted as a precaution against artillery had been omitted, and in a moment we were advancing up the hill in open order.