8 The Yfres Times.
only the intermittent rattle of musketry and machine guns, that were doing terrible havoc
amongst the ranks of the L'sstill held on.
All the senior officers, with the exception of the Captain, had been killed earlier in
the day at last the word to retire was given, and the men fell back slowly, their retreat
being covered by the officers and a handful of N.C.O.'s. Out of that hell, which they had
endured for the last thirty-six hours, the men made their way back along the one road
that still lay open to them. When they reached the base, the question that was repeated
again and again as stragglers came in was always the same How went it with the Cap
tain
But there was none who could make reply!
And as the hours went by still there came no news of him and the other officers,
and a great depression fell upon them.
In the hearts of the L'sthere was a mighty love for Summers, their Captain
where he led they followed with implicit trust. He had never yet failed them. In the
tightest corner that slow smile of his would change the sallow, insignificant features
extraordinarily, reassuring the menand his fearless facing of a difficult situation had
often before brought them out of the danger threatening them. Foremost in every
attack, he had seemed up till now to have a charmed life. Identifying himself with all
their hardships, cheerily he had moved amongst them, a comrade, as well as a leader.
And now, were they to lose him?
Silhouetted against the fast-fading lightoverwhelmed, surrounded, hopelessly out
numberedthe officers still held the post, and with the N.C.O.'s they made their last
gallant stand.
Too late now to retire, they had achieved their purpose for they had covered the men's
retreat! They now faced the last issue of the fight.
Standing together, blood-stained, mud-bespattered, hardly recognisable, they fought
to the last. So fierce was their resistance, so hot the fire they poured upon the enemy,
there was no question of surrender!
Led by Summers, their Captain, they held their ground.
When darkness fell, they were still fighting, but it was nearly over.
A boy's voice carrying far over the field in a pause of the firing, as the Germans
prepared to make the final rush, rang out triumphant.
Floreat Etona! Then it broke off.
But Summers took it up. Springing over the prostrate figure at his feet, he called
to the few still left
Come on, boys! Let's charge 'em," and with a shout of Floreat Etona! they
went forward.
For days the fighting went on in that sector—the post was held at last by us, and the
enemies' advance stopped.
No trace of Summers and his gallant comrades was ever found! Numbered amongst
the unknown dead, yet their names live for ever.
Pro PatriaPro Rege, and for us, too, who knew and loved them, they remain un-
forgottena memory that is with us for all time!
And their young voices come out of the shadows of the Past, fresh and strong, and
ring true across the aeons of Time
Floreat Etona!
and the echo comes back
"It is well done." L. M. P.
