THE INTENSE ATOM.

Greymouth Evening Star, 17 August 1915, Page 2

THE INTENSE ATOM.

A V.C. HERO'S RETURN

HOW FLIGHT-LIEUT. WARNEFORD CAME HOME. POIGNANT PEN PICTURE. [The following story tells of the bringing home of the body of Flight Sub-Lieutenant Warneford, the gallant Canadian aviator, who, after being awarded the V.C. for destroying a Zeppelin, was a week later killed, while giving an exhibition flight over Par's.] "But a week ago a young officer passed meteoric lacross 'the firmament of the war," isavs the Pall Mall of recent date.

"This lad of three and twenty, by; his own superb courage and address, destroyed one of the machines on which the Germans pin their fondest hopes of doing despite to this country. "The world rang with the name of Flight Sub-Lieutenant Warneford. The King, seizing the occasion, as is his wont, telegraphed to him his bestowal of the most prized honour a British fighting man can win! To-day, the heroic youth lies dead, killed, not in action with the enemy, but by a mere stupid accident — the miscalculation of some stress; a hidden flaw in 1 a steel wire; some careless or hasty workmanship. He lies "As a sword consumed before the sheath By sightless lightning; th' intense atom glows A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose. "It is a tale of pride and pity,- a tale which would be unbearable did we not know that nothing is in vain."

AT VICTORIA STATION. The home-coming to England of the body of the dead V.C. hero is thus described by the Telegraph : ' "Two slim figures in black awaited the arrival of the Continental train at Victoria. The day was rapidly drawing to a close, and the railway signals seemed charged with a weird brilliance as they mysteriously broke, on the dull greyness fast merging into night. Lieutenant Warneford was coming home, and his relatives awaited his arrival. They were not alone. A privileged group, admitted to.the platform, had come with the same object. A Naval guard, smart and alert, were there with a gun-carriage to escort him home, and, stretching as far as the eye could see were dense throngs who came, to join in the silent reception. "There was a sense of unreality about this home-coming. Less than three, weeks ago this young hero had found his way into the very hearts of all his countrymen. He had, in "one swift moment, become a national possession, filling us all with admiration of his prowess and pride in his achievement. We had even allowed ourselves to speculate as to the manner ot our reception of him when he was to come among us again, and yet, here we were, in somo dazed way, awaiting his coffin. The prosaic railway station, the throbbing engines, the leisured movement of officials —surely this was all familiar. It could not be" that we were awaiting the mere corpse of the heroic young officer. "The gloom, however, deepens as the quickly darkening skie's take on the colour of the vast iron span above. Horse and motor vehicles glide ghost-like to the lower end of the platform; and are forgotten. There is suddenly greater, though still subdued, movement among the officials, 'and the , heaving, panting train moves slowly and laboriously infrom the mist beyond. The door of the leading van is opened, and a coffin draped in a Union Jack, almost hidden beneath a wealth of blooms, is disclosed. It is then no illusion. It is Lieutenant Warneford's mortal remains that have arrived at Victoria, and have been met by his friends, or, rather, by their self-appointed representatives.

ON THE GUN-CARRIAGE. "A striking simplicity and a total absence of formality mark' this reception. A party of eight sailors approach the railway van and reverently remove the beautiful wreaths amid wihch the coffin rests. They silently bear the remains to the gun-carriage which is iii readiness and slowlv lower their burden. With quick, nimble fingers the coffin is made fast. Another Union Jack with ampler folds replaces the one which covered it previously. The gifat wreath representing an aeroplane is placed thereon. A sharp word of command, and the gun-carriage swings on its way, followed by its escort of officers and men. Two slim figures, in black, shaken with grief, watch it as it passes through the station gates.''