No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library. Dedication The Hero 'Jack fell as he'd have wished,' the Mother said,And folded up the letter that she'd read. 'The Colonel writes so nicely.' Something brokeIn the tired voice that quavered to a choke.She half looked up. 'We mothers are so proudOf our dead soldiers.' Then her face was bowed.Quietly the Brother Officer went out.He'd told the poor old dear some gallant liesThat she would nourish all her days, no doubt.For while he coughed and mumbled, her weak eyesHad shone with gentle triumph, brimmed with joy,Because he'd been so brave, her glorious boy.He thought how 'Jack', cold-footed, useless swine,Had panicked down the trench that night the mineWent up at Wicked Corner; how he'd tried To get sent home, and how, at last, he died,Blown to small bits.
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