Ikey. He was. Came from the East Side, London. Brave as a lion, and to our discomfort, musically inclined. Dick. Irish, from Dublin. Always ready. Greatly admired the Kaiser because he started such a glorious scrap. Sailor Bill. A Welshman. He had had a "cruise" in the Navy, and wanted everybody to know it. They did. He was detailed with the gun's crew to carry "ammo" (ammunition). Yank. Got his handle because he was American. He hailed from the "Big Town" behind the Statue of Liberty, and was proud of it, too. Committed a "technical error" and got mixed up in the Great Fight. They were soldiers of the King, and their further personal history does not matter. It will suffice to say that they were fighting in the British Army for Justice, Democracy and Liberty. Scene of action: "Somewhere in France." Time: A few months after the sinking of the _Lusitania_. After "stand down" had been passed along the fire trench, they would repair to their two-by-four dugout, and it was their custom to while away the time by taking turns at story-telling. Some of these were personal experiences, while others were told to them by their mates, the majority of whom, by this time, have either "gone West," or reached that heaven of the British soldier--"Blighty." "THROUGH THE BIG GUNS' THUNDER" Over the top and give them hell, Up the ladders and through the wire. Out in front, go across with a yell, With bullets cracking from rapid fire. Then the death song of a ricochet, A curse or moan as your pal goes under, You cannot stop, you must not stay-- It's on--on--thro' the big guns' thunder. It hurts to see him torn apart, For you've shared his grub on "sentry go," And listened to tales of his sweetheart, In dugouts by the candles' glow. But war is war, the trench must be taken, Whether your life's blood pays the cost. If the wounded die in holes, forsaken, It's part of the game; they played, and--lost. If you get hit and the blood runs out, Don't cry and whimper from the ground, But FACE that trench, don't turn about, Cheer, tho' it's from the Great Beyond! When you reach their trench, then use the steel, Sink it deep into Fritz's hide, Send it home, so that he will feel, How the women and children of Belgium died. A.G.E. [Illustration: "Somewhere in France" June 30, 1916 My dear mother and sister. Have volunteered to go over to the German lines tonight to capture prisoners. If you receive this letter you will know I went down with a grin. I am leaving it for our captain to mail in case of my death. With lots of love. Guy. Facsimile of letter written by the Author, when he went over the top for the first time.] CONTENTS PAGE Jim--Soldier of the King 11 The Pacifist 29 Private Ginger 45 The Lone Tree Sentinel 61