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Updated: May 11, 2025
"If any fellow deserves the D.C.M. it's he." "And a little bird whispered to me," continued Laxdale, "that a certain member of the antient and accepted order of the Lone Star Crush did a jolly risky thing fetching water under enemy fire." Wilmshurst coloured hotly. "Rot!" he ejaculated. "Fritz couldn't see me. They were putting up a lot of small arms ammunition, of course.
Making his way past the outlying piquets Wilmshurst rode steadily. The ground was undulating, the general tendency being a gentle rise.
"Hullo there!" exclaimed the doctor. "How goes it? Fit?" "Absolutely," replied the subaltern. The doctor smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He knew perfectly well that no officer warned for active service would reply otherwise. "Buzzing all gone?" "Practically," replied Wilmshurst.
At dawn Wilmshurst left the camp, accompanied by the full platoon, to attempt the salving of the crippled seaplane. It was a comparatively easy matter to follow the tracks of the two airmen, for the down-trodden grass and the frequent sights of wisps of clothing adhering to the briars and thorns were evidences of a spoor that even an indifferent scout could determine.
A few seconds later the vultures rose from their interrupted repast, flying almost immediately over the prone form of the subaltern. "Fishy very," mused Wilmshurst. "What made the aasvogels fly this way? I'll sit tight and await developments."
We were a set of blighters scooting off and leaving old Spofforth to act like a modern Horatius." All three subalterns knew that the Rhodesian was the only man on the spot who had a rifle ready, yet generously they forbore to give expression to their thoughts. "See if you can find Mr. MacGregor," ordered Wilmshurst, addressing Bela Moshi.
There were hundreds of footprints all around; those of Askaris and Germans, for none of the imprints of booted feet bore any resemblance to those of Robert MacGregor. At the first opportunity the adjutant called Wilmshurst aside. "You didn't mention your suspicions to any one else?" he enquired. "No, sir," replied Dudley. "It's just as well for the present," continued Captain Manners.
Taking a favourable opportunity Wilmshurst and his squad climbed over the palisade at a point where no attack was being made, and dropping to the ground doubled in the direction of the now silent machine gun.
The barrel was partly wrenched from the stock, and for a distance of about a foot from the muzzle the steel had been split, revealing the glittering rifling. Taking in these details at a glance Dudley gained the side of the prostrate man. One look was sufficient to show that the Hun had been killed outright. "Hard lines, Fritz," exclaimed Wilmshurst aloud. "I'm glad I didn't have to pot you."
"It's in to-day's orders, so we're here to offer congrats. The battalion's doing well a D.S.O., two M.C.'s and five D.C.M.'s; not a bad record, eh, what?" "Yes, the show's over as far as we are concerned," added Laxdale. "We marched in yesterday. It was a jolly satisfactory piece of work that final attack on Fritz's position." "Sorry I hadn't a hand in it," remarked Wilmshurst.
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