MOBILE DIGITAL LIBRARY - SOCIETY OF YOUNG NIGERIAN ...

I heard my throat make a queer sound, but I said no word. The voice flowed on,difficultly, determinedly."It's a strange thing to remember—a weird and unearthly bit of living—that war-ruinedchurch, strewn with straw, the wounded wrapped like mummies in dark blankets, theirwhite bandages making high spots in the wavering, irregular lights of lanterns and pocketflashes moving about. I sat on the pavement by his side, hand in hand. A big crucifixhung above, and the Christ seemed to be looking—at him."The voice stopped. I heard my own as a sound from beyond me asking a question. "Howdid you find out?" I asked."Why, you see, Uncle Bill," he answered, as if my voice had helped him to normality abit, "I started off by saying I'd write to anybody for him, and wasn't there somebody athome maybe? And he smiled out of his torture, and said 'Nobody.'"Then I said how proud we were of such Americans as he had shown himself and howmuch he'd helped. I told him what Teddy Frith said of how he'd put heart into the men.And about the war cross. At that his face brightened."'Did he really say I'd helped?' He was awfully pleased. Then he considered a moment