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Show I 1 ffTITI lUHIiltiliHIfciHHHhPI H 1 "WW"" The Conscientious Objector; or, Coming Through Under Fire "P By "T" Sergeant Arthur Guy Empey Author of "Over the Top," "First Call," Etc o-o-o Mr. Empey's Experiences Experi-ences During His Seventeen Seven-teen Months in the First Line Trenches of the British Army in France (Copyright, 1917. by Tho McClare Newspaper (syndicate) 12 "What do I think of a blinkin' conscientious con-scientious objector?" answered Ikey Honney from the corner of the firebay. "Well, what with this bloorain' war on and blokes goin' west by the thousands, thou-sands, a pacifist or conscientious objector objec-tor is one of two things, he's either a blinkin' coward or a bloody pro-German. But It's funny the way some o' them blighters, with their West End ideas back in Blighty, changes their mlads when tfcey gets out here in the mud, and gets their first glimpse of a wooden cross. It's either a firin' squad up against a wall, a bloomin' V. C. (Victoria Cross) or a 'rest in peace' sign over their nappers for them. A strange thing it is, but true ; those blokes never go through the trenches in an ordinary way like we do ; it's a case of extremes, no in-between stuff. "Next time you're on a burial party, take a look at the third cross from the left in the fourth row as you enter Ihe cemetery. You know that p,ath that leads through the orchard just off the entrance of that big R. E. (Royal Engineers) dugout; well, under that cross rests a bloke who back in Blighty professed to be a pacifist. He wouldn't blinkin' well volunteer, not likely ; they had to draft him, an' when they did he refused to fight, so they stuck him In the N. C. C. (noncombatant corps) and handed him a pick and shovel and put him to repalrin' roads and diggin' graves. Well, it didn't take long, before be-fore he was properly fed up with his job, and he threw down the pick and shovel and grabbed up a rifle an' bayonet. bayo-net. Oh, yes, he clicked it all right and went west. In fact he was buried In one o' the graves he helped to dig. I suppose some o' those college officers called It the 'iron of fate,' or some other oth-er blinkin' hlgh-sounding phrase, but we knows that it was only common ordinary luck, 'cause we all knows that If you're going to get it, you'll get it, no matter if you're a gentleman's son or a bloomin' chimney sweep. "This blighter I'm telling about was In my platoon when I was In C company, com-pany, an' he used to give me the proper prop-er pip with his arguments a'gainst fighting and the likes o' that. "The first time I met him was in St. Armand ; our 'bat' was in the rest billets bil-lets awaltln' a new drnft before going up the line again. You see we had clicked it pretty rough at Fromelles, an' a platoon looked like a blinkin' squad when it lined up for parade. I was playing 'house' in that estaminet r'ght across from that bashed-in church ou the corner when his labor battalion came through and took aver .billets just opposite from the estaminet. esta-minet. I was sitting near a window and watched them pass. A sorrier bunch of specimens of men' I never saw ; It turned my blinkin' stomach to look at them, what with their pasty faces, stooped-over shoulders and straggling gait. Right then and there I admired the Germans for their system sys-tem of universal military training. If England had of had a little more of It there never would have been a war and right now we would be In Blighty with our wives and nippers, instead of sitting here in these bloody ditches waitin' for a shell to- come over with our name and Humber on it. "After the labor battalion took over billets several of them came into the estaminet and sat at a table near me. They started to discuss the war and voice their opinions about the 'top hats' at home. This bloke I'm a talkin' about was the loudest of the bunch ; he seemed to have a grouch on everything every-thing In general. I listened to him a few minutes chucking his weight about until it bloody well got on my nerves. Chucking up my game of house and I had paid half a franc for my board, too I leaned over to him and said : " 'You must be one of those bloomin' conscientious objectors we reads about In the pnpers, one o' those blighters who don't believe in fightin' but is willing to sit back in Blighty and let us blokes out here do your bloody fightin' for you, while you gets a blink-In' blink-In' good screw (salary) sitting on a high stool in some office.' "He turned to me and answered: 'It's the likes o' you who volunteered for (bis war what keeps it goin'. If you had all refused to go at first, there wouldn't be any war?' "I couldn't see it his way at all, and went rigbt back at him with: 'Yes, and If it wasn't fur us volunteering, the bloody German flag would now be flying fly-ing over Buckingham palace and King George would be In the Tower of London.' Lon-don.' "He thought a minute or two and answered: 'Well, what of it; one flag's as good as another, and as for the ! bloomin' king what did he ever do for yon but make you pay taxes so he could bloomin' well sit around doing nothin' ?' "This was too much for me, that blinkin' jellyfish a slinging mud at our king, so I lost my temper, and taking my glass of vin rouge In my hand I leaned over close to him and said: 'When you mentions the king's name Ic Is customary to drink his health. Perhaps he never did anything special spe-cial for me, but I havo never done anything special for him, and even at that I've done a damned sight more than you have for him, so take this wine and drink his health, or I'll dent that napper of yours so you won't be aide to wear that tin hat of yours.' "ne got kind of pale and answered: 'Drink to the king's health; not likely. like-ly. It's through him and his bloody Top Hats In parliament that I'm out here. Why in the blinking hell don't he do his own fighting and let us poor blokes alone?' "I saw red and was just goin' to hit him, when a big Irishman out of the Royal Irish Rifles next to me grabs the glass of wine from my hand, and looking the blighter In the face yells at him: "Well, if the king ain't done nothing noth-ing for you English, he's done less lor us Irish, but I volunteered to come out here for him, and here I am, and glad of it too, and hopes some day to get into Berlin with the king's forces. You won't drink his health ; well you can bathe his health.' With that he threw the wine into the blight er's face and smashed him in the nose with his fist. The fellow went over like a log with the Irishman still a goin' for him. If we hadn't of pulled him off I think he would have killed that conscientious objector. The military police came In to see what all the row was about. I had clicked three days C. B. (confined to barracks) and didn't want to get' arrested, so in tho confusion I made tracks for' my billet. "The next time I met the bloke was when we buried old Smith out of the Tenth platoon in the cemetery at La Bassee. He was one of the grave dig gers. All during the burial service he stood looking at the Union Jacl with a queer look on his face. When old Smith was lowered into the ground and the dirt was thrown on him the conscientious objector Watkins was his name came over to me and said : "T hear he (pointing at old Smith's grave) is forty-eight years old and has left a wife and three nippers back in Blighty. He was too old for the draft, wasn't he? Then he must have volunteered.' vol-unteered.' "I answered : 'Of course he volunteered, volun-teered, and there he lies, deader than h ; but I'll wager a quid his wife and kids will be proud of him and that's more than your kids will be about you.' "He sneaked off without answering. Three days later I nearly dropped dead when our lance corporal came into our billet with a bloody nose and a beautifully beau-tifully trimmed lamp. When I asked him how he got knocked -.about he told me that a fellow out of the non-combatant non-combatant corps named Watkins had mussed him up just because he had called him a white-livered coward. "Watkins ducked twenty-one days number one on the wheel, and when his sentence was finished they transferred trans-ferred him to a fighting unit, and bang! into our platoon he comes. "Many a talk I had with him about that pacifist stuff he hadn't changed a bit in his ideas but he kept his mouth shut about the king and the Top Hats at home. "Then we went into the trenches and I knew his finish was near. A firing squad or 'rest in peace' was to be his lot ; they all get one or the other sooner or later. "After two days in, Fritz got rough and optned up with a pretty stiff bombardment. bom-bardment. "Watkins was in the fourth squad in a dugout in the support trench when a 'Minnie' registered a direct hit "You Must Be One of Them Bloomin' Conscientious Objectors." on the roof and caved her in. Every one but Watkins was killed. How he escaped was a marvel, the rest of the sc;uad being smashed up something awful. aw-ful. We collected the pieces and buried bur-ied them the next day. Watkins helped help-ed dig the graves. "For two days Watkins scarcely spoke a word, just went round with a faraway look on his face. "On the third night after the burial, volunteers were called for a bombing raid, and I could scarcely believe my ears when I heard that Watkins had volunteered. It was the truth all right he went along. We crawled out In No Man's land under cover of our barrage and waited. wait-ed. Watkins was next to me. Sud denly a star shell went up and we crouched down In Its light. I was laying lay-ing so that I could see Watkins blirae me he had no rifle or bayonet. I whispered over to him : 'Where's "our rifle?' He answered: T threw it away.' Before I had time to reply, the signal to rush the German trench was given and I lost sight of him. "It was rough going in the German trench, and we had quite a little of hand-to-hand fighting. Star shells were going up all around us. One of our blokes in front of me was just going go-ing around the corner of a traverse when a big German got him through the throat with his bayonet and he went down. Something sprang past me ILke a wildcat and closed with the Fritz. They both went down together. to-gether. Just then another German came at me from the entrance of a dugout and I was busy. I managed to get him. Then our lieutenant and two men came round and gave the order to get back to our trenches. The lieutenant stumbled over the three bodies in front of us. One of them groaned. It was Watkins all right. Unarmed he had sprang at the German and wifh his bare hands had choked him to death, but he had a nasty jagged jag-ged bayonet wound In his right side. We managed to get him back to our s at. I And Then He Died. trenches, but he died on the firestep. Before cashing in he looked up at the lieutenant and with a grin on his face said: 'Tell the bloomin' king and the Top Hats at 'ome that I died for England, and I hope that like old Smith, my nippers will be proud of their father. God save the king,' ana then he died. "We buried him next morning. No, my opinion of conscientious objectors and pacifists has not changed. They are either cowards or pro-Germans. "You see Watkins wasn't either; he was a soldlsr of the king, and a damned good one, too." THE END. |