arrived. Two of us put the body on the stretcher and carried it to the
nearest first-aid post, where the doctor took an official record of
Pete's name, number, rank, and regiment from his identity disk, this
to be used in the Casualty Lists and notification to his family.

We left Pete there, but it broke our hearts to do so. The doctor
informed us that we could bury him the next morning. That afternoon,
five of the boys of our section, myself included, went to the little
ruined village in the rear and from the deserted gardens of the French
chateaux gathered grass and flowers. From these we made a wreath.

While the boys were making this wreath, I sat under a shot-scarred
apple tree and carved out the following verses on a little wooden
shield which we nailed on Pete's cross.

True to Us God; true to Britain,
Doing his duty to the last,
Just one more name to be written
On the Roll of Honor of heroes passed.

Passed to their God, enshrined in glory,
Entering life of eternal rest,
One more chapter in England's story
Of her sons doing their best.

Rest, you soldier, mate so true,
Never forgotten by us below;
Know that we are thinking of you,
Ere to our rest we are bidden to go.