First World War Centennial

VII

THINGS went just about the same for several days, and you can imagine that I was happy to hear "Sister" say to the Surgeon, "Please, Sir, don't think of taking Army away, he is such a help, he watches just like a sensible human being, and if anything happened I know he would come and find me," so I was never troubled by anybody.

My dear Master suffered a great deal, but often he seemed to find comfort in repeating some of the verses of the "Kiplin'" he loved. Sometimes it would be one thing and then another, but what he seemed to love most then was the part about "a bloomin' soul," for whenever he said that, he would smile and look so sort of satisfied; and then once in the night, he raised his head quite high and said almost in his old voice,

I knew quite well that he meant we must never forget the dreadful things those terrible big "Ger­mans" had done to us, and I for one never shall.

It must have been a great effort to him to say those words, for his head fell back on the pillow, and he never moved again all the rest of the night. When morning came I had gone fast asleep, and was waked up by hearing "Sister's" voice saying to someone: "It is all over at last"; and then I knew that he had not moved because he was dead, just like so many I had seen, only he looked quite as if he were at peace, and not horrible, like some of the others.

They tried to get me away, but I wouldn't move, and as I never interfered whatever they did, nor made a fuss when they put him in a box and carried it out, they let me follow. I watched them put him on the great big wagon, and waited while our regiment gathered together, and then I followed him, close behind, until they brought him here, and put him in this place they call a "grave." Then the regiment stood at "'tention" and some of the men stood out from the others in a row, and fired guns, all together; and I knew they must be doing it because they loved him.

I had been dreadfully unhappy for I had thought that to be dead was the end, but there was a man in odd clothes there, "Chaplain" they called him, who read some nice comforting sounding words out of a big book. When I heard him say that a trumpet should sound, and the dead arise, I took heart again, and just determined to stay right here, until what he promised really happens. I should not like my dear good Master to wake and not find me waiting.

When they were going away, some of the soldiers I knew best tried to get me to go with them, but though I was quite willing to follow them as far as the gate, I would not go any farther, for I had learned only too well that if I went outside, and the gate shut tight behind me, I might never get in again. One of them, the one I had loved best next to my Master, tried to take me in his arms and carry me out, and though I hated to seem ungrateful, I had to show him what I would do if he did not let me alone, so they saw they must let me have my own way, and went off. I came back here and laid down on my Master's breast hoping that I might help him to keep warm, and I must say it seemed a very long dismal time before morning came again. When it did, I got up feeling very stiff and sore, and walked about the place, which I had heard them call a "cemetery," and I saw that it was almost full of "graves" just like my Master's, and that each one had a cross at the end of it.

While I was walking and look­ing about I heard a whistle, sound­ing from the gate, and running towards it was delighted to see the same kind friend who had wanted to take me away. I showed him how happy I was to see him, and then he gave me some food he had thought to bring me. I ate it all up very quickly for it was a long time since anyone had thought to feed me, and when I had finished, I did everything I could to show my gratitude; but when he tried again to make me follow him, I just turned my back, and walked over here to this spot, where I have lived all the long weary time since.

He came again the next morning with more food, and every day in all this long time, he, or someone else, has done the same; and he brought one day my dear Master's coat and spread it for me to lie on, and it was Oh! such a comfort, to have something which seemed a part of him to keep me warm.

One day after a long time he came and brought a perfect stran­ger who wore some different look­ing things, and I heard them talking to each other about our regiment being ordered away. He said the new man must tell his regiment about me, and must "Promise faithful ter luk arter the pore little faithful chap, an' pass 'im on," if another regiment came. Of course I understood very well what they were talking about, and I could hardly bear to let my friend leave me, and I showed him so very plainly, but he had to go I know, for as my dear Mas­ter used to say, "A soldier 'as got ter obey h'orders, Army, no matter wot he thinks uv 'em."

The new man was very kind, and in time I got to be quite fond of him and of the others in his regi­ment who came when he could not, but of course they were never quite like the old friends I had lived with so long. They did the very best they could for me, and when the time came for them to go, they brought somebody from the new regiment and made them promise just the same as they had done, to look after me, and if they had to leave to turn me over to the new ones. When the time came that this happened, I heard them say­ing that it had become "a sacred charge handed down from the famous 42nd—s," and that no­body would ever dare to neglect a legacy of theirs. So for this rea­son, or because they were just kind, I never wanted for anything, and each regiment that came seemed almost kinder than the last.

One thing I do not understand is, why they all have the same name of "Tommy," and I often wish I could ask my dear Master to explain it to me, but of course I can't, and I just have to be patient about that, as about many other things.

Lately, the longing for my dear Master to wake up and let me be somewhere with him where we could be a little warmer and more comfortable has been almost more than I can bear, for I have felt so very, very tired, and would not have touched the food the Tommies brought me if they hadn't seemed so very disappointed. To-night the latest Tommy was particularly kind, and I did hope his feelings wouldn't be hurt, but I just couldn't eat, nor even swallow a drop of water.

He sat by me a long time, and it was very comforting to feel his warm hand gently smoothing me, and to hear his kind voice saying, "Pore little Army, pore little chap, it's almost finished, you won't 'ave ter wait much longer."

Then I felt something hot and wet drop on my head and I knew he was crying; a luxury I have often wished I might indulge in, for it always seems to be such a comfort to People. But I never could, though I've tried often.

I had heard the bugle sounding and I knew he ought to go, but he waited and waited, and fidgeted a bit, but at last said with a sigh, "I do 'ate ter leave yer, boy, but I must, so good-bye little faithful one, an' w'en my time comes may I 'ave done 'arf as well."

He went away then, and feeling very desolate, I tried to lift my head a little to look around me.

It was still light, and it looked to me very beautiful, for the apple-trees in the cemetery, which they had made in an orchard, were in full bloom, and I had heard my friends say that "Spring" had come. It seems very wonderful to me that the trees, so dead all Winter, should be covered now with these lovely flowers, which I love to have fall over me and my dear Master, and I cannot help hoping it means that it is nearly time for him to wake. He has slept so long.

It is strangely cold just now, and is growing very dark. . . . I wish that kind Tommy could have stayed. . . . It is so very hard to be alone to-night; I wonder why?. . . . I never minded it before.

Dear, dear Master! If you would only come! Even your dear coat does not warm me any more! . . . . So tired—so—very—tired——