CAMEOS OF WAR.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVI, Issue 50, 27 February 1915, Page 13

CAMEOS OF WAR.

A SCRAP OF PAPER. When the dead were buried a trace of blood led the searchers to a shady spot, where they found a Frenchsergeant h-ing dead with his hand tightly clenched in death pressed to his lips. In his clenched hand wae a scrap of paper, which they forced from it, and. read. It was a letter from his little girl of five, which, when mortally wounded, he had crawled here to read with the last light of his dying eyes, and it ran thus: "Dear Father, —I miss you so much. I miss you most morning and evening, when I used to kiss you. I try to be good, as you told mc, and. kind to mamma.—Your loving little girl, ■Marguerite." J. PLAYING A MAN'S PART. Ther e was in the Cheshire Regiment a well-connected young chap, who had brought disgrace on his family, and had 'listed to get away from the police. " In one of our big fights he was mortally wounded, after a terrible tussle ' with three big Germans. He asked mc \ to take this message to Ms father, whose name he gave mc in confidence: 'I'm very sorry for the trouble I have ! given you and poor mother, 'but I hope you will forgive the past, because I did try ■to make good as a sqldier, and erery time I went into action I thought that I would do my best to atone for the past by playing a man's part for Old England.' Then he died."—From a Soldier's Letter. CONTRABAND OF WAR. A lady who lately passed the triple row of inspectors on her way from Germany to Holland had. occasion to learn that even a box of sweets may become " contraband of war" in these troublous times. "What is that?" asked the uniformed Beamter, pointing to the small pasteboard parcel in her hand. "A' "box of chocolates," she incautiously replied. " That stays here," said the official gruffly. " E*t it was a present to mc for the trip, and I've already eaten most of them," protested the traveller. " "Macht nichts," said the official., firmly taking hold of the package and depositing it behind the counter. " the exportation of food is forbidden. The chocolates stay here." "IN DEATH NOT DIVIDED." Sergt. R. Duffy, of the Rifle Brigade, who is now at home, tells a pathetic story of the "war. "There were two men of the Camerons," (he says, "who had been chums since their boyhood. They had 'listed together, and had been in I don't know how many scrapes and scraps eide 'by side. 'In the fighting round Ypres one night one of them got hit in a hard bayonet fight. .The regiment had to return to the .trenches leaving the woomded to take their chance, for the time being, out in the bitter cold. "The wounded man's chum caught eight of him lying in the roadway'; with the pallor of death in his face, and his teeth chattering with the terrible cold. Is it you that's lying there, Jock? A canna' lea' ye. co a'U etay . wi , ye tae ■the morn.' "The wounded man wouldn't hear tell of it, but his chum meant to have his way, and he got it. Next morning we had a, look for the two, and we found them, side by side, both dead. "They had crept together under their great coats to keep them warm, but death' had found them all the came." SIiATTGHTEJEtED IN CHURCH. "A violent bombardment of lampernisse took place." Such was the laconic French report •of December 1. Behind it lies a, terrible story of low 500 French soldiers, eleepin a church, were betrayed by a German spy. sLanrpernisse is a village between Pervyse and Dixmude. A considerable number of French soldiers were situated there. In a, village such as this there are not sufficient quarters for a great number of troops, and part of the detachment, . about 500 in all, slept in the church. Straw was laid down in the aisles, round the altar, and in the pews. It is believed that a sj>y eignalled the presence of the troops in the church, and the Germane speedily opened fire. The first shell crashed into the church with terrible effect, and others followed in cjiick succession, and before the sleeping men-could escape they met with fearful punishment. Dozens were stretched dead where they had been sleeping, scores lay ■wounded and groaning,. amid what speedily became the mere ruins of the church. All the wounded who could be got out were carefully tended, but the losses of tihe detachment were terribly heavy.