made me turn to look at him. He was manacled, and tied by a rope to
the mounted man. I caught one glimpse of his face, and then turned
away, cold and sick. There was doom written on his face, and in his
eyes a captured look. He was walking to his wall.




XIII


There were other men who could not stand shell-fire. It filled them
with an animal terror and took all will-power out of them. One young
officer was like that man who "did not mind rifle-fire." He, by some
strange freak of psychology, was brave under machine-gun fire. He had
done several gallant things, and was bright and cheerful in the
trenches until the enemy barraged them with high explosive. Then he
was seen wandering back to the support trenches in a dazed way. It
happened three times, and he was sentenced to death. Before going out
at dawn to face the firing-squad he was calm. There was a lighted
candle on the table, and he sorted out his personal belongings and
made small packages of them as keepsakes for his family and friends.
His hand did not tremble. When his time came he put out the candle,
between thumb and finger, raised his hand, and said, "Right O!"

Another man, shot for cowardice in face of the enemy, was sullen and
silent to one who hoped to comfort him in the last hour. The chaplain
asked him whether he had any message for his relatives. He said, "I
have no relatives." He was asked whether he would like to say any
prayers, and he said, "I don't believe in them." The chaplain talked