36
The Ypres Times.
patches, with here and there a sand-bagged wall showing. We were looking down on to
the famous blue-mud ditch in which so many of our brave fellows had floundered in their
life struggles in the darkness. A little way to the left was the pretty hamlet of St. Eloisius,
now in utter ruin. Then just beyond, was the ridge which seemed to meet thé sky-line
with apologies. It was from there that the enemy watched us daily, and hence our pre
cautions in our approach to the Convent gateway.
Now is there any doubt about the shadow," asked Dobbinson. as he climbed to
his feet over a pile of brick rubble. He ran under cover of one of the sides of the gateway,
reaching which he leant against the brickwork, pointing to the shadow on the ground.
And what is giving this shadow I asked, from the ground. Can't you see the lone
stump just to my right I added. Yes," he replied. Then look at the beams in the
archway," I commanded. These are the things that cause your shadow." Dobbinson
looked at the stump behind me, then up at the two beams in the gateway, the only remain
ing wood in the structure. To do this, he passed into the centre of the gateway, and took
two or three paces backward.
I had just called, Take care, old man when three shells came in quick succession
the horrible and ghostly whizz-bang type of projectile which gives one no chance to get
out of its way. I heard Dobbinson shout, and I just caught a glimpse of him as he floun
dered and fell down the bank on the far side of the gateway. I crawled, half got up to
my feet, struggled over the rubble and somehow or other got to Dobbinson. He had
fallen over the side of the little bridge which crossed to the gateway into the beek, which
fortunately was full of reeds. His feet were in the water. I got him on to the side .of the
bank, and I noticed he was bleeding at the side. I did what little I could, and as I struggled
to undo his belt and open his tunic, Dobbinson was just able to murmur, I'm done,
little 'un. Get away as best you can." All was now quiet. The sun was going down,
and with it all things were sinking, as they do in Flanders, into delicate tints. A swallow
had the grace to fly along the silent water before me and disappear into the broken green
trees.
The, soul of Dobbinson has gone marching on, while a small wooden cross stands
out boldly in the shadow of the Convent gateway.
DEATH AND DIXIES.
An incident of the first Battle of Ypres.
Death was stalking through the field
Steady and slow he plodded off.
Trenches in front, dug-outs behind
Where never a man was seen.
Death came raging round,
And the field of death between.
Dank and wet was the dreary day,
Starving cold were the men at bay.
With blast of shell, and scything shot
That tore and razed the ground.
We held our breath to see him killed.
His only care that nought be spilled.
Sudden, a sturdy figure rose,
He reached the line, and up and down
A dixie in either hand
Stared across at the distant line,
He carried heat and cheer
'Till no man lackedthen turned and faced
Stared at the death-swept land.
A damned unhealthy spot," said he,
But if I don't go, mates'!! get no tea."
Again that way of fear.
The God of Battles spread his shield
And Death drew beaten from the field.
No Cross for Valourglory, none.
But such men fought, and such men won.
BEATRIX BR ICE.
