They found the second-line strongly held by machine-gunners. There was bloody work, but they secured their prisoners. The problem now was how to get back with their dead and wounded. The green lights which the men in our front-line were shooting up to guide them, showed very faintly and were often lost to sight on account of the rolling nature of the country. The return journey was made still more difficult by snipers who picked them off as they retired. They had already entered our wire, when word was passed along that one of our men was missing. Dick must have heard it; when they were safe in our trench and called the roll, it was discovered that he too was absent. This much I learnt in the early hours from the wounded who limped up the sunken road to my left. It wasn't until dawn that I heard the rest of the story: that was when they were bringing out the dead. The engine of the ambulance had quickened its beat, getting ready to climb the hill. I ran out and found them lifting something wrapped in a blanket.
"'E was some man", one of the bearers was saying; "but 'e's too 'eavy. They 'adn't ought to 'ave brought 'im out." Then I caught sight of Dick's gray hair Beneath his half-shut lids his eyes still seemed to twinkle, mocking at anything good that might be said about him.
They told how, when within reach of safety, he had gone back to find the missing man. He had been gone two hours, when something was seen moving behind our wire. Just as they challenged, they recognized him by his great height. He was half-carrying, half-dragging the missing chap who had lost his way through being blinded in the encounter with the patrol. They went out to help him in with his burden. When they got to him, he said, "Boys, I'm done." After he'd spoken he just crumpled up. Blood was trickling from his mouth and, when they unbuttoned his tunic, it was sticky. Before they could bind him he pegged out.
As I gazed down at him in the early morning twilight I could guess exactly what had happened--just as surely as if his lips had moved to tell me: he had been frightened to go back, so he went.
He had wanted to go straight for her. Because he'd feared that his loneliness might trap him into beastliness, he'd come back six days ahead of time to meet his death. I wonder how much she'll care. Out here one continually wonders that about the women men spend their hearts on, idealizing them into an impossible perfection. Would she have, turned her pretty back on him if he had lived to meet her? No matter, Dick; to have gone straight, even for the sake of a delusion, was worth while.