traits than ever, for the enemy seemed
to be weakening on the river bank and putting his main strength in
against our right ... But my G.S.O.2 stopped me on the road. 'Wake,' he
said. 'He wants to see you.'

'Not now,' I cried.

'He can't live many minutes.'

I turned and followed him to the ruinous cowshed which was my
divisional headquarters. Wake, as I heard later, had swum the river
opposite to Mitchinson's right, and reached the other shore safely,
though the current was whipped with bullets. But he had scarcely landed
before he was badly hit by shrapnel in the groin. Walking at first with
support and then carried on a stretcher, he managed to struggle on to
the divisional headquarters, where he gave my message and explained the
situation. He would not let his wound be looked to till his job was
done. Mitchinson told me afterwards that with a face grey from pain he
drew for him a sketch of our position and told him exactly how near we
were to our end ... After that he asked to be sent back to me, and they
got him down to Loisy in a crowded ambulance, and then up to us in a
returning empty. The M.O. who looked at his wound saw that the thing
was hopeless, and did not expect him to live beyond Loisy. He was
bleeding internally and no surgeon on earth could have saved him.

When he reached us he was almost pulseless, but he recovered for a
moment and asked for me.

I found him, with blue lips and a face drained of blood, lying on my
camp bed. His voice was very small and far away.

'How goes it?' he asked.

'Please God, we'll pull through ... thanks to you, old man.'

'Good,' he said and his eyes shut.

He opened them once again.

'Funny thing life. A year ago I was preaching peace ... I'm still
preaching it ... I'm not sorry.'

I held his hand till two minutes later he died.

* * * * *

In the press of a fight one scarcely realizes death, even the death of
a friend. It was up to me to make good my assurance to Wake, and
presently I was off to Masterton. There in that shambles of La Bruyere,
while the light faded, there was a desperate and most bloody struggle.
It was the last lap of the contest. Twelve hours now, I kept telling
myself, and the French will be here and we'll have done our task. Alas!
how many of us would go back to rest? ... Hardly able to totter, our
counter-attacking companies went in again. They had gone far beyond the
limits of mortal endurance,