Part 16 (1/2)

Just such frank blue eyes were his... .

G.o.d! How horrible war is!

I have reason to be gay: There is one less foe to slay.

I have reason to be glad: Yet--my foe is such a lad.

So I watch in dull amaze, See his dying eyes a-glaze, See his face grow glorified, See his hands outstretched and wide To that bit of ruined wall Where the flames have ceased to crawl, Where amid the crumbling bricks Hangs _A BLACKENED CRUCIFIX._

Now, oh now I understand.

Quick I press it in his hand, Close his feeble finger-tips, Hold it to his faltering lips.

As I watch his welling blood I would stem it if I could.

G.o.d of Pity, let him live!

G.o.d of Love, forgive, forgive.

His face looked strangely, as he died, Like that of One they crucified.

And in the pocket of his coat I found a letter; thus he wrote: 'The things I've seen! Oh, mother dear, I'm wondering can G.o.d be here?

To-night amid the drunken brawl I saw a Cross hung on a wall; I'll seek it now, and there alone Perhaps I may atone, atone... .'

Ah no! 'Tis I who must atone.

No other saw but G.o.d alone; Yet how can I forget the sight Of that face so woeful white!

Dead I kissed him as he lay, Knelt by him and tried to pray; Left him lying there at rest, Crucifix upon his breast.

Not for him the pity be.

Ye who pity, pity me, Crawling now the ways I trod, Blood-guilty in sight of G.o.d.

My Job

I've got a little job on 'and, the time is drawin' nigh; At seven by the Captain's watch I'm due to go and do it; I wants to 'ave it nice and neat, and pleasin' to the eye, And I 'opes the G.o.d of soldier men will see me safely through it.

Because, you see, it's somethin' I 'ave never done before; And till you 'as experience noo stunts is always tryin'; The chances is I'll never 'ave to do it any more: At seven by the Captain's watch my little job is ... _DYIN'._

I've got a little note to write; I'd best begin it now.

I ain't much good at writin' notes, but here goes: ”Dearest Mother, I've been in many 'ot old 'do's'; I've sc.r.a.ped through safe some'ow, But now I'm on the very point of tacklin' another.

A little job of hand-grenades; they called for volunteers.

They picked me out; I'm proud of it; it seems a trifle d.i.c.ky.

If anythin' should 'appen, well, there ain't no call for tears, And so ... I 'opes this finds you well.--Your werry lovin' Micky.”