"It isn't because of the phone that I'm here.
To-day you are talking to me
Because of the grit and the pluck of a boy. His
title was Runner McGee.
We were up to our dead line an' fighting alone;
some plan had miscarried, I guess,
And the help we were promised had failed to
arrive. We were showing all signs of
distress.

"Our curtain of fire was ahead of us still, an'
theirs was behind us an' thick,
An' there wasn't a thing we could do for ourselves--the
few of us left had to stick.
You haven't much chance to get central an' talk
on the phone to the music of guns;
Gettin' word to the chief is a matter right then
that is up to the fellow who runs.

"I'd sent four of 'em back with the R. I. P.
sign, which means to return if you can,
But none of 'em got through the curtain of fire;
my hurry call died with the man.
Then Runner McGee said he'd try to get through.
I hated to order the kid
On his mission of death; thought he'd never get
by, but somehow or other he did.

"Yes, he's dead. Died an hour after bringing