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One Young Man - The simple and true story of a clerk who enlisted in 1914, who fought on the western front for nearly two years, was severely wounded at the battle of the Somme, and is now on his way back to his desk. by Unknown
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stop the flow of blood at all, and the corporal said, 'No
good: it will all be over in a minute.' I could not believe
it at all--it did not seem possible to me that George with
whom I had spent every hour, every day in close
companionship for so many months past, was dying.

"The party went on and I was left alone, but I risked all
chances of court martial and stayed with my wounded friend.
I couldn't leave him until I was absolutely certain that he
was past all aid. He did not last very many minutes, and I
knelt there with my arm round his shoulders, hoping against
hope that something could be done. He was called to pay the
supreme sacrifice of all. And with just one gasp he died.

"I was in a terrible condition. My clothes were soaked in
blood, my hands all red, my mind numbed. Nothing could be
done, so I went and joined my company, but first made
application to the sergeant-major that I might help to bury
my chum. This was granted, and as three other men were
killed that evening, a party of us were detailed to make
graves for them. I can see now those four graves in a
square, railed off by barbed wire, on the cross-roads
between St. Jean and St. Julien. On one corner stood an
estaminet and trenches ran all round. A chaplain was
passing, and we had a service of a minute or two. The time
was about 2 o'clock on Saturday morning. We were only able
to dig down a couple of feet, and these graves must, I fear,
have suffered from the heavy shelling which followed, but I
like to think that my chum still rests there undisturbed.

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