which
were in a dugout in Death Valley. There with the permission of his
O.C., a runner volunteered to come with me. He brought a spade, and we
started down the trench to the front line. When I got into Regina
Trench, I found that it was impossible to pass along it, as one sank
down so deeply into the heavy mud. I had brought a little sketch with
me of the trenches, which showed the shell hole where it was supposed
that the body had been buried. The previous night a cross had been
placed there by a corporal of the battalion before it left the front
line. No one I spoke to, however, could tell me the exact map location
of the place where it stood. I looked over the trenches, and on all
sides spread a waste of brown mud, made more desolate by the morning
mist which clung over everything. I was determined, however, not to be
baffled in my search, and told the runner who was with me that, if I
stayed there six months, I was not going to leave till I had found
that grave. We walked back along the communication trench and turned
into one on the right, peering over the top every now and then to see
if we could recognize anything corresponding to the marks on our map.
Suddenly the runner, who was looking over the top, pointed far away to
a lonely white cross that stood at a point where the ground sloped
down through the mist towards Regina Trench. At once we climbed out of
the trench and made our way over the slippery ground and past the deep
shell holes to where the white cross stood out in the solitude. We
passed many bodies which were still unburied, and here and there were
bits of accoutrement which had been lost during the advance. When we
came up to the cross I read my son's name upon it, and knew that I had
reached the object I had in view. As the corporal who had placed (p. 157)
the cross there had not been quite sure that it was actually on the
place of burial, I got the runner to dig the ground in front of it. He
did so, but we discovered nothing but a large piece of a shell. Then I
got him to try in another place, and still we could find nothing. I
tried once again, and after he had dug a little while he came upon
something white. It was my son's left hand, with his signet ring upon
it. They had removed his identification disc, revolver and
pocket-book, so the signet ring was the only thing which could have
led to his identification. It was really quite miraculous that we
should have made the discovery. The mist wa