"Ten minutes passed--fifteen--then twenty. All eyes were turned in Sailor Bill's direction. He answered our looks with: 'Go to it, boys, we can't wait for Smith. I don't know what's keeping him, but you know his name is in orders for leave and perhaps he is so tickled that he's going to see his wife and three little nippers in Blighty, that he's lost his bearings and has run aground.' "We started in, and waxed merry for a few minutes. Then there'd be an uncomfortable pause and all eyes would turn in the direction of the vacant place. Uneasiness prevailed. "Suddenly, the entrance to the dugout was darkened and a form came stumbling down. With one accord we all shouted: "'Come on, Smith, you're missing one of the best Christmas dinners of your life." "Our Sergeant entered the dugout. One look at his face was enough. We knew he was the bearer of ill tidings. "With tears in his eyes and a catch in his voice, he asked: "'Which is Smith's pack?' "We all solemnly nodded our heads in the direction of the vacant place. Without a word the Sergeant picked up the letters, parcels and pack and started to leave the dugout. "Sailor Bill could stand it no longer, and just as the Sergeant was about to leave he asked: "'Out with it, Sergeant, what's happened?' "The Sergeant turned around, and, in a choking voice, said: "'Boys, Smith's gone West. Some bloody German sniper got him through the napper as he was passing that bashed-in part in Yiddish Street.' "Sailor Bill ejaculated: "'Poor old Smith, gone West.' Then he paused and sobbed out: 'My God, think of his wife and three little nippers waiting in Blighty for him to come home for the Christmas holidays.' "I believe that right at that moment a solid vow of vengeance registered itself in every heart around that festive circle. "The next day we buried poor Smith in a little cemetery behind the lines. While standing around his grave our artillery suddenly opened up with an intense bombardment on the German lines, and as every shell passed, screaming overhead, we sent a prayer of vengeance with it. "As the grave was filled in, I imagined a huge rainbow embracing the graves in that cemetery on which, in letters of fire, was written, sarcastically in German, 'Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men.' But such is war. "So, boys, that was my last Christmas. Where I'll be next Christmas, God only knows. "Next day my mail came in from America, and didn't cheer me much because I was thinking of Smith's wife and nippers. "So long, boys, I've got to go." A SIREN OF THE BOCHES As Told by Yank from a Personal Experience Related to Him by a Soldier Named Atwell A SIREN OF THE BOCHES