HIS PRIZE

A STORY OF THE GREAT WAR. P7

By Eddie Parry, Tycroes
Old Joe Blakely, or as he was known in the village, “Sergeant Blakely,” was an army veteran of 70 or thereabouts, and he shared his pension with his niece, Nora Mayfield, a pretty girl of twenty, who, next to the Sergeant's medals and cutlass, was his dearest treasure. When the present war was waged old Joe Blakely's heart became sad and joyous in turns; and when he thought that he could no longer obey the call of his country; joyous when he thought of the honour and glory of war, of England's prestige; how it could be increased and how its annals of heroic deeds could be added to. Linglam village, where the old Sergeant and his niece lived, was in the heart of the country, where the summer sun bathed in its glorious rays the beautiful valley of the river Ling.
So one lovely morning in September Sergeant Blakely set to work, as soon as he was able, to find recruits for the new affray. He had hardly kissed Nora “good-bye” at the garden gate when he saw young Harold Brown approaching towards the house. “Ah,” thought the Sergeant, “here's a start anyway,” and lighting his pipe he trudged down the road towards the young man.
“Morning, my boy,” said the Sergeant, stopping abruptly in the middle of the road and holding himself in military style – for he was still a soldier.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” replied the young man, saluting; “I was just coming over to wish you and Nora good-bye.”
“So ye are going to enlist like a soldier and a man,” said the old sergeant, bobbing his stick up and down with glee. “I'm very glad, lad; and – (whispering in his ear) – so will she. Ah yes, she'll be glad,” he said, pointing towards the house with his pipe.
The old sergeant had a habit of speaking in a very loud tone of voice; in fact, it was nothing less than shouting. So as he and his companion approached near to the house, Nora heard her uncle's voice, and came out to meet him. As she saw Harold Brown, tall and alert, walking beside her uncle, she at once closed the garden gate and pretended to be busily engaged in watering the climbing roses and the dahlias which grew in the shadow of the old house.
Under the edge of her pretty bonnet she of course stole an occasional sly glance at the approaching young man. When at length they arrived at the gate she looked up, pushed back her bonnet, and gazed wistfully at Harold.
“Good morning, Nora,” he said, bowing gracefully.
“Good morning, Harold,” she answered putting down the watering can and walking towards him along the neat gravel path. As the morning was bright and warm, they went to the summer house at the other end of the garden, she and Harold arm in arm, and the sergeant following behind.
“I've something to tell you, Nora,” said Harold, selecting a chair for her and himself.
“What, anything very important?”
“Well yes, in a way.”
“What's the matter?” she said as she saw him biting his lip until a little drop of blood appeared.
“Nora,” he said, taking her dainty little hand in his own, “I've come to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” she said, suddenly withdrawing her hand.
“Yes; I'm leaving for the front, Nora.” Silence.
“I am off to-day: I've had a commission in the Life Guards, and will be in Belgium this day week if all is well,” he said at length.
“Harold,” said Nora timidly, “Uncle always used to say before our engagement, ‘Niece, you shall be an old maid or a soldier's wife'; but I got over the difficulty with him with a few hugs and kisses, but to think that, after all, his wish is granted – Oh! Harold.”
“Nora!”
“I'm proud of you, Harold,” and she reached her young face to his to be kissed.
“Alright there,” sounded a voice in the doorway as the lovers were lost in each other's arms.
“Ha! Ha!” laughed old Joe Blakely, “it's alright, my dear; ye needn't blush, he's a soldier now, ain't ye Harold?” Harold laughed awkwardly.
“All I tell thee, lad, is do th' duty. Fight for th' honour and glory of they country. I know what it is: when thou'lt see a lot of them German boys before thee, spitting fire and shrapnel, thou'lt be thinking of her, lad – ah yes, I know it. Not of th' own soul, but for th' love; not for England , but for Nora – Oh yes, lad!”
Harold did nothing but blow out a thin whiff of smoke between his lips and watch it curl up in shapeless clouds through the doorway.
“Remember, lad, thou'rt a soldier now, fighting and not thinking of love. Don't thou worry lad, I'll take care of th' girl for thee. Shan't I, Nora?” and he planted a kiss on her dainty forehead.
“Stop th' crying, lass,” he went on; “thou'rt prepared for a soldier's wife; Harold's a good lad, and 'll take care of himself I warrant.” The Sergeant re-lighted his pipe and went on. The other two felt in no mood for talking.
“I expect to hear great things of thee, lad; thou'rt cool and level headed from what I know of thee, and there's a heart in there.” (The Sergeant poked his walking stick on the young man's heart.) “And so I expect some of these on they breast when we'll see thee again,” he said, playing with the medals which adorned his coat.
“Remember what I told thee, lad, about memories,” he went on emphatically. “Memories are a curse and a nuisance when there's duty and death to be faced, and that's what a soldier's life is. Ah! I say d— this old business of not letting me go out. I know I'm in the seventies, but I'll shoot as straight as a die, – and that's what's wanted, and plenty of cold steel, me lad; that's the stuff. I feel as fit as a fiddle myself.”
“You're too old uncle,” ventured Nora through her tears.
“Yes, I know it; but I dream of it; I live in it, d— I—“
He went out waving his arms frantically in the air and puffing away at his pipe. The lovers were again alone. A smile crossed Harold's lips as he watched the old soldier march past the corner of the house shouting at the top of his voice, “I'm as fit as a fiddle,” and of course a few curses to add to the effect. “Well, Nora,” he said at length, “I shall not forget that final outbreak of his; that's done me more good than all his talking.” “He's wonderfully young in spirit, you know.” “He is, and I must follow his example if I can; anyway, I'll have a good shot at it. I promise you, Nora, not as a lover, but as a soldier, that I shall do my duty, come what may – my duty to England and my King.”
Nora was again crying. “Now stop that, little one; that will never do for a soldier's wife,” he said, placing his arm around her tenderly. “I must go,” he said, rising, “and God bless you, dearest.” He took her hand and pressed it gently. “Take this,” she said, pulling off a pendant from her neck. He took it and placed it in his pocket book, and, kissing her a last good-bye, he went out. She followed him to the gate, where they could see the Sergeant a few yards up the road waiting for Harold. When he held her hand over the little wicket gate he heard her murmur, “I'll pray for you, Harold,” and with these words ringing in his ears he left her, wiping a hot tear which was rolling down his cheek.
She watched him disappear out of sight, walking with the Sergeant, who was patting his back and trying to walk at the same time, and as she saw his black cap disappear over the hedge side, she walked back to the summer house whispering to herself, “I'll pray for him.”

I I

It had been a terribly hard day's fighting for both the Allies and the German soldiers. Losses were heavy, especially among the British regiments, for they had time after time made repeated attacks on the German guns, only to be overpowered by superior numbers. Now the sun was quickly sinking over the wooded slope behind our trenches, and cast long shadows over the ground, all along the line. Still the enemy kept on the attack, bringing reinforcements to replace their lost troops. It was now growing bitterly cold, and the trenches were filled with water up to the men's knees. Our infantry had fought like men who were inspired with the spirit of the cause of this terrible struggle. The wounded and dying were lying at the bottom of the trenches groaning and praying. The dead were trampled upon, and comrades tried in vain to dig a grave for a friend or a brother.
“Keep them off, boys,” shouted the officer, ”help is coming.”
This gave our men a new heart, and the enemy's van line was broken entirely. But this aroused the spirit of the German enemy also, and they retaliated, literally spitting fire upon the British lines. A little stream ran between their lines and ours, yet it was too deep to be crossed. A bridge lay about a mile down the river, but it would be madness for us to have attempted to cross it with our little force – 5,000 strong – against the open lines of the enemy, about 20,000 strong.
First Lieutenant Henderson had sent a dispatch rider to the camp at Fleurville, 10 miles off, asking for aid, for the enemy were seen to be slowly making their way to the bridge. Once they crossed, our force would be compelled to make flight. Once darkness set in, it would be pity us.
Presently, a horseman was seen to be approaching through the dusk. “The Life Guards are coming,” he shouted,” and will be here within the hour.” every heart prayed fervently that that would be the case.
The young horseman approached the officer and saluted.
“Your messenger,” he said, “arrived at Fleurville wounded; three shots were fired at him he said. Colonel Bailey wishes you to report the matter to headquarters, sir.”
“Alright, who are you?”
“Lieutenant Brown of the Life Guards, sir.”
“Oh, I see—“
Officer Henderson stopped short as he heard a tumult of voices from the enemy's lines; he took up his binoculars and peered through the thick gloom. “By God,” he cried, “they are going for the bridge.” He could see a mass of infantry on the other side of the river marching steadily towards the bridge. The air was keen and sharp, and the ground was freezing hard.
“Take charge, Summers,” shouted Lieutenant Henderson to his inferior officer, “and follow me towards the bridge; it's a fight for the bridge now.” He turned his horse around and, calling for some battery powder. He pulled Harold's sleeve, “Gallop for it, lad,” he said. They spurred their horses and off they went. They could see two Prussian Guards galloping on the other side also: it was a race in which the Prussians had had a good start. Looking ahead as they flew through the gathering gloom, Harold shouted, “I have a faster horse than you. Give me the battery, and you keep those two devils off.”Lieutenant Henderson handed him the powder bag and off Harold went, slinging the strap of the bag across his shoulder as he went. He had now outpaced the two German horsemen, and was about 200 yards from the bridge.
The thought of Nora, then of old Sergeant Blakely, whose words rang in his ears— “when thou'lt see a lot of them German devils spitting fire at thee, thou'lt be thinking of Nora; not for England, but of they love. But memories are a curse when there's duty to be done and death to be faced. . . . . ” Harold remembered no more, for from under the span of the bridge two helmeted figures were seen and a bullet whizzed past his ear. He did not hear the Lieutenant's voice shouting behind him, “Go on, lad.” It was Nora's voice that he heard sighing softly, “I'll pray for you.” Twice his rifle rang out “Crack, crack,” but once only with effect, for he saw one of the helmeted figures fall with a groan. Down he dashed and was on the bridge in a moment, leaving his horse near by. He could see the Prussian Guards within a hundred yards of him, and the other sentry approaching from behind.
But Lieutenant Henderson's rifle was ready for him, and just as he was coming up from the pebble bank and was climbing over the railings to the bridge with his rifle covering Harold's crouching form, it spoke, and the second sentry was silenced.
But danger was not yet over, for while Harold was running under cover of the wall he was caught by an unseen antagonist from behind, and he fell with a charge of lead in his right leg. But severe as the pain was, he struggled on to the end of the bridge, with Henderson's rifle covering him, and painfully lowered himself over the bank until he came right under the span. Quickly he took the charge form his bag, placed it on a dry stone, and lighted the fuse. He knew now that the two guards were on the bridge and could overhear him, for he could hear them shouting above him. But Henderson was again true in his aim, for both were wounded, and hung helplessly over their horses. Henderson at once came to Harold's aid. The young officer was lying near the fused powder charge, weak and covered with blood. He was lying with his wounded leg in the water, unconscious of the extreme peril in which he was. Tenderly Henderson lifted him and carried him slowly to the bank. The fuse was now about expended, and in another minute the whole bridge and its dead and wounded would be blown to a thousand fragments.
Henderson realised this, and with that spirit and valour which has made the British soldier the idol of warfare he, although his own wrist pained him terribly, lifted his comrade across his shoulder and ran up the bank. He lay exhausted there, and a moment later the bridge was blown to atoms, and the little regiment was saved. The deafening report brought Harold to himself. “What has happened?” he murmured faintly. “Keep quiet,” replied Henderson, pushing him farther behind the little bush which sheltered them. They saw the unknown third man, whose bullet had wounded Harold, shooting towards the bridge, trying in vain to find his whereabouts. Suddenly Harold and his companion heard a shout behind them, and with a cry of delight Henderson saw the Life Guards gallop to the scene. But Harold had swooned again at the thought of Nora.

OUR COUNTRY'S CALL.

P4

Sons of old Gwalia dear,
Gallants that fear no foe,
Fight for the King and country,
Happily to war they go:

Men who are not discouraged
When the battle rages high;
Men who will fight like heroes,
For they know the reason why.

Men from the hills of Cambria,
Men from the vales around,
Tillers of land for our living,
And the heroes of underground;

Men of the office and factory,
Men who are men indeed,
Come to the call of your country
To-day, in her hour of need.

Who are the hopes of Gwalia
In peace and when oppressed? –
Who but her young and manly,
With whom she has been blest:

Young men, arise to glory
Our Motherland, once more,
And you'll be led to victory
As in the days of your.

Tycroes. B. C. REES.

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18,000 MOUTH ORGANS FOR THE FRONT. P3
There has been an unprecedented demand for mouth-organs to send to our soldiers and sailors at the front. An important firm has stated that in addition to the 4,000 mouth organs for soldiers, now on their way from Switzerland, they had an order for 10,000 for the sailors, placed by one customer, and in addition to those large orders they had sold nearly 4,000 since the war broke out, nearly all of which had been intended for the troops.
Another large firm admitted that they were sold out, but could sell huge numbers more if they could obtain them; but practically the only sources of supply now were Switzerland and the United States.

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AMMANFORD RECRUITING MEETING P5
The Voice from the Trenches.
There was an enthusiastic recruiting meeting at the Ivorites Hall, Ammanford, on Tuesday night, when the speakers were: Mr. J. Lewis, J. P., Brynrhug; Rev. J. W. Jones, B. A. (Vicar); Mr. A. E. DuBuisson, Glynhir, and Mr. E. B. Fisher, Wansbeck. And the impassioned appeals made were listened to with wrapt attention by a fairly large audience consisting in the main of young men – Several ministers wrote letters regretting inability to attend. Ald. W. N. Jones, J. P., Dyffryn, presided, and during the course of his very effective remarks he asked the young men to realize that their comrades were fighting in the trenches, upholding the honour and dignity of England, and anxiously waiting for men to help them in their struggles against odds.
Mr. John Lewis gave a most striking speech, which brought home to the audience the causes of the war and its wonders in clear, unmistakeable terms. He dealt in very interesting way with who appeared to him to be the seven wonders of the war, namely, the wonder of the Serbs, of the Russian Cossack, of France itself, or the splendid British army, of the German big gun, and of Belgium and of Calais.
The Vicar (Rev. J. W, Jones) followed with a reasoned address. He said they could not justify war by the standard of the brotherhood of men which they fully hoped some day to attain. However, they had not yet attained that stage. They could say without a scruple they could justify their position to the very last degree in the present war. For ourselves it was a war of defence. Mr. A. E, Du Buisson observed that Lord Haldane gave some very strong remarks in the House of Lords of the possibility of conscription. At the same time he (the speaker) hoped that the voluntary system would stand the present test, as volunteers made better soldiers after all than conscripts. Mr. E. R. Fisher said they should pursue the war to its logical conclusion and make another war of the kind impossible. That German bauble had got to be pricked – by a bayonet with a Welshman, he hoped, at the end of the rifle. The Chairman at the end presented the claims of the Carmarthenshire battalion upon the young men.

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EXPECTED HAS HAPPENED P1
Startling Development of Submarine
A new phase of scientific warfare by sea is opened up by the method of attack which lost us the Formidable. This battleship, as Lord Crewe announced on Thursday, sunk by torpedo or torpedoes fired from a German submarine and manifestly by a submarine acting on and not below the surface. The time and the circumstances generally make it impossible that the boat should have been submerged, and taking aim only thorough the periscope.
The expected has happened (the naval correspondent, of “The Times” writes), and the submarine has taken the place of the destroyer as a torpedo-user; to its submerged activities in daylight it has now added those of the surface boat by night. By day it must still continue to work by stealth, awaiting its prey, but at night it can boldly sally forth, and, protected by its comparative invisibility, can search for a target to attack. At present it appears to work singly, but later on it may do its hunting in packs. It has been said that this development of submarine warfare was expected, because in the early part of 1904 some experiments were carried out to test this method of attack. It was then reported in the Press that as a result several battleships were torpedoed.
More recently still, in a speech on March 26 th , 1913. Mr. Churchill, when defending a reduction in the number of destroyers in the shipbuilding programme, pointed out that the functions of this class were being intruded upon by other types, especially the light cruiser and larger submarine. It was perhaps inevitable that his should happen, because the primary advantage possessed by the original torpedo-boat in night attack, its comparative invisibility, was materially reduced when in order to give it greater speed and sea-keeping capability, its size was increased. Presently the function of this type of vessel to attack the great ships of the enemy by the torpedo was usurped by the destroyer, but even with its high speed the destroyer has much difficulty in pressing home an attack at night without being observed.
The submarine, however, is independent of the waywardness of the weather, and can keep the sea as long as its supplies of food, fuel and ammunition last, while it can, under cover of the darkness and with only its conning tower above water, approach quite near to its quarry without being seen. It is likely, indeed, that the submarine when she discharged her torpedoes at the Formidable was only a very short distance away, the conditions of the sea and her comparative invisibility enabling her to approach unobserved.
Had, for example, the Japanese been able to use submarines instead of destroyers at the attack upon the Russian fleet in Port Arthur Roads on February 8 th , 1904, it seems probable that every ship might have been sunk, instead of the relatively small amount of damage that was accomplished owing to the destroyers being discovered before they got close enough in to act with full effect. In the notification by the Chief of the German Admiralty Staff that one of their submarines had sunk the Formidable it was stated that the fact was reported by wireless

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