“DEAD” HERO RETURNS TO LIFE

Evening Star, Issue 16211, 5 September 1916, Page 6

“DEAD” HERO RETURNS TO LIFE

REMARKABLE RECOVERY OF MEMORY. A sergeant of a Guards regiment who has been “officially” killed since the battle of Mens has just turned up in Loudon on two weeks’ leave from a convalescent homo at York (says the London ‘Dispatch’ of July 9). Back from that “ official grave he has brought one of the most remarkable human stories of the war. A writer of fiction would have dared to imagine it, yet the main facts are confirmed by military' records. The sergeant is a man of years, standing 6ft 4in—a fine, bia specimen of humanity. When the war “broke out he was recalled to the colors as a Reservist, went to France in the first Expeditionary Force, and faced tho overwhelming hordes of Huns in the successful retreat, which to-day still remains a miracle, at Mons. bor some years prior to 1914 he had been a . chauffeur. His duties frequently took him to the Continent, and he often remarked that he knew the roads of France and Gennany better than those of the United Kingdom. Of the retreat from Mons he cannot remember much, but here and there his memory gives him back illuminating glimpses of those awful days. “Everyman,” he says, “did what “he could in those days forthe common cause ”—orthodox Army routine was honored more in the breach. “ I remember one day on that retreat doing the: rounds with the company officer. A German suddenly- sprang up a few yards ahead of us. T brought my rifle to the hips and shot him dead. I remember his face sort of opening out asT hit him, and he foil back dead in a huddled heap. That face haunts me now day and night.” —Wounded—and a Prisoner.

. After that episode tho sergeant’s mind is a long blank. How he became a wounded prisoner in Germany ho cannot tell. The account of his treatment is not altogether coherent. First lie will state that he was treated well, but a few moments later ho states—and his whole frame convulses in a shudder that must ®9Evmc:(i tnat he was brutally knocked about. He was moved from camp to camp. T; a only one ho can recall by name is lluhlebcu, where ho complains oi vicious maltreatment. Then conies another void, and a batch of mental cases were removed to a camp n . oar U l ® French frontier. They were -el ting into camp, and a favorable opportunity for escape must have presented itseu. for a chmn said : “Come on, Jim! Lets op it—this is where we cut adrift.” And tho two men made a bolt. There followed five or six days’ tramping, hiding by day and continuing the flight by niebt. The sergeant cannot recall how they secured food.

‘‘We got to the Fiench lines,” ho states ‘‘and then I hear those awful guns again ” Here the poor fellow held his hands to his head, adding: “Ah! I can hear them ■ n °' r '» lhe y 6° °. n day and night —•never Once again speech and memory left mm._ “It is like a vice clutching on to the tip of my tongue.” ho explained. “I think sometimes I will tail;, then I think I won’t; it hurts !”

From the French linos he was taken to a French hospital, and after many davs was shipped to England. Tho official records show that he was sent to a convalescent home at Buxton, and the register describes the case ac> one of “ melancholia.” From Buxton ho was transfeiTed to York a few weeks ago, and there happened one of the most remarkable incidents in his partial recovery. • —What a Novel Did.— A kindly nurse had given the sergeant a well-known novel to read. For days tho bonk lay unheeded at Ins bedside, but tho time camo when he was feeling hotter and hs wanted somethin-: to do to while away the long hours of the afternoon. He had scanned the morning papers. Suddenly hie- eye lighted upon the book. He picked it up and saw the name of the author imprinted on the red cover ir gilded letters. “Nurse,” ho called to a ward-sister who was passing. “Look! that is my name,” pointing to tho author’s name.

Tho sergeant had brought out of Germany a few papers which had not beer, taken from him Search among them revealed a similar name, with address Once again illusive memory helped him “Yes, that is my brother,” ho said; “3 know him, ho lives in London.” On Monday last the brother received ; letter from an unknown ]>er?on in th-: York hospital stating that his brothel was alive and coining to London; woule ho meet the train at Liverpool stree’ station arriving at 8.10 p.m. Though in credulous, the brother met the train anc recognition was instantaneous on botl sides. It has been a wonderful reunion lire sergeant’s wife mourning her husbauc and unablo to get money from the authori tics, returned to domestic sendee to sup port her two boys, aged eleven and nine For close upon two years sho has supported that burden, practically unknown unheeded, by a busy world. On Tuesday last, brother and returnee sergeant paid a visit to the War Office. The officially “killed” man was duly identified, and a kindly disposed officer, who had employed the sergeant as chauffeur before the outbreak of war, iu pushing matters along with a view towards the present anomalous position being immediately rectified, and before leaving his late master put into the sergeant’s hands four five-pound notes.