TWELVE MONTHS AFTER
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ullo! here's my platoon, the lot I had last year."The War 'll be over soon.""What 'opes?""No bloody fear!"Then, "Number Seven, 'shun! All present and correct."They're standing in the sun, impassive and erect.Young Gibson with his grin; and Morgan, tired and white;Jordan, who's out to win a D.C.M. some night:And Hughes that's keen on wiring; and Davies ('79),Who always must be firing at the Boche front line.* * * * *"Old soldiers never die; they simply fide a-why!"That's what they used to sing along the roads last spring;That's what they used to say before the push began;That's where they are to-day, knocked over to a man.
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