Next morning the whole section went over to say good-bye to Pete, and
laid him away to rest.

After each one had a look at the face of the dead, a Corporal of the
R. A. M. C. sewed up the remains in a blanket. Then placing two heavy
ropes across the stretcher (to be used in lowering the body into the
grave), we lifted Pete onto the stretcher, and reverently covered him
with a large Union Jack, the flag he had died for.

The Chaplain led the way, then came the officers of the section,
followed by two of the men carrying a wreath. Immediately after came
poor Pete on the flag-draped stretcher, carried by four soldiers. I
was one of the four. Behind the stretcher, in fours, came the
remainder of the section.

To get to the cemetery, we had to pass through the little
shell-destroyed village, where troops were hurrying to and fro.

As the funeral procession passed, these troops came to the
"attention," and smartly saluted the dead.

Poor Pete was receiving the only salute a Private is entitled to
"somewhere in France."

Now and again a shell from the German lines would go whistling over
the village to burst in our artillery lines in the rear.

When we reached the cemetery, we halted in front of an open grave, and
laid the stretcher beside it. Forming a hollow square around the
opening of the grave, the Chaplain read the burial service.