Here is a story which makes the heart thrill with its grandeur, its glory of supreme self-sacrifice, its simple beauty. It is the record of what a noble soldier will do and dare: ―
“It occurred,” writes my authority, “during a particularly bad night. The water in our trench was a foot deep, and the enemy’s line only a few yards off. Just as the last light of day was merging into a specially dark night, one of our men was hit by three bombs at the same instant, and was killed. We picked him up, and put him on a waterproof sheet. Though we were all used to the fearfulness of War, this lad’s death seemed particularly hard, for we loved him. It hit each one of us in that trench right behind the throat, so to speak. He was so young, so good, of fine high spirits, and he had always set us such a Christian example. Also he was one of a new draft that had only been out a fortnight or so, and we felt an older man could much better have been spared. To bury the young fellow was full of big risks, for the enemy had our place well marked, and all night their rifles swept the space between the trenches. All the same, a small party of us dug a hole on the top, a feu yards in front of our trench, and we placed the dead lad in it. Then the astounding and unique thing happened! Our Sergeant ordered us all back into the trenches, but he remained behind alone by the grave. ‘Boys,’ we heard him say, ‘our dear comrade was a true Christian, and I’m going to see he gets proper Christian burial, for he deserves it!’
“And would you believe it? ― I can hardly realize it even now―our brave Sergeant stood straight up amidst that awful hail of lead from the Germans, and calmly, touchingly read all the Burial Service over our dead comrade, just as if it were an ordinary graveside. Bullets pelted round and over him, but he just took no notice of them. He read the service quietly, and with deep reverence. And—aye, I’m not ashamed to confess it too—many of us, Who had never prayed for years, joined in as well as we could with him, often saying the words after him, right to the end. It did us—and will do in future, — a power of good towards leading us to God.
“The grand, brave Sergeant! Not a single bullet even touched him. It was a miracle, that’s all I can say. We are all even yet impressed by this, for unless angels guarded him, it seems utterly impossible to tell how he escaped. But he did; and then he came back quietly to the trenches, where many of us shook his hand warmly. But we could not speak a ward. Yes, our Sergeant is the finest fellow I’ve seen out here.”
N. R. VENNER