NIGHT SHADOWS.
44 THE GREAT SILENCE," NOVEMBER nth.
The Vpres Times.
5
A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT FOR OUR MEMBERS WHO SERVED IN
THE YPRES SALIENT.
Written by Beatrix Brice for a Toast at Reunions.
Here's a health to the man who fought at my side,
To the man who's beside me to-day,
To the man who will follow and earn.- our torch-
Wipers! For ever and aye.
(Written August 4th, 1924.)
Recently a notice appeared in some of the daily papers that the battered sign-board
which used to stand on a post on the Menin Road, cheerily bearing the legend, Hell
Fire Corner," was in the keeping of the one-time Town Major of Ypres.
What a trail of agony, courage, and gallant sacrifice has that immobile wood witnessed
Ten o'clock of a September night in 1917, on the Menin Road. Up through the
Menin Gate pour the files of men and guns, mules and lorriesin a never ending line
up to feed the devil's furnace towards Hooge. The moon hangs like a huge globe in the
sky, high above the ruins of stone and flesh. Many a soldier tikes a last backward glance
at that glorious mocn, and wenders idly whether it locks like that from home. The
dark moving line comes to a sudden stop0!d Fritz registering on Hell Fire Corner
againseme horses down-blocking the roid. The 18-pounder ammunition mules pull
up short behind a line of lorries packed with shells the mules give no sign of fearno sign
of anythingexcept to lay their ears back and look soberly funny. A sing and hiss of
shrapnel overhead, and suddenly -a tall mule-driver bursts into tears, sobbing like a child.
Shell shocked," laconically says the sergeant, just up from hospital— damned shame-
stick it, Digger." But poor Digger is down and out for that night's work
A figure rises from the wreckage piled by the roadside, where it had been drinking,
and with the query Going up past the crater Righto, sergeant, so am I, gimme' the
mules," takes the vacant place in the ranks.
Onward into the shadows go the guns and men, mules and lorries. The Digger sits
beside the track with his head sunk between his hands, while the shells moan and crash
over the fields. Still the peaceful moonlight silvers this road edged with its gaunt tree
stumps, and its awful smell of gas and death
Where are the actors of that grim play now Do they sleep for ever near
those hillsides, or are their feet treading the world's busv ways
NEMO." -
A solemn hush, a great and awful silence
As though a city's heart had ceased to beat,
Women and men of every rank and station
Stand bowed as if in prayer in every street
A hush, where life itself seems almost fled
A Nation's silent tribute to her Dead.
Two minutes taken from the rush and turmoil
To bow (in thought) beside a loved one's grave;
Two minutes spent in sacred recollection
Of those who fought and died, our land to save.
A wondrous hush o'er King and subjects spread
A Nation's tribute to Her Glorious Dead.
Test we forget their gallant stand for freedom,
Their ready answer to a country's call.
Here now we bend in solemn recognition
And silently include them, one and all.
A reverent pause for those who for us bled,
A grateful tribute to Our Glorious Dead."
And soon 'tis o'er, and men to life returning
Move on again with quicker, firmer tread.
Knowing full well a stronger link than ever
Is forged between the living and the dead.
A glorious tribute may this ever be.
Binding our hearts in one Great Memory.
A.M.F.
