After him at the head of A Company marched Captain Duff, his rugged,
heavy face looking thinner and longer than its wont but even fiercer
than ever. With eyes that looked straight before then, heedless of the
line of silent onlookers, the men marched on, something in their set,
haggard faces forbidding applause. At the rear of the column marched the
chaplain alone, and every one knew that he had left up in the Salient
behind him his friend and comrade, the M. O., whose place in all other
marching had been at his right hand. All knew too how during this last
go, in the face of death in its most terrifying form, they had carried
out their wounded comrades one by one until all were brought to safety.
And all knew too, how the chaplain carried with him that day a sore and
lonely heart for the loss of one who was more to him than batman, and
who had become his loyal and devoted friend. The chaplain's face was
gaunt and thin, with hollow cheeks, but for all that, it wore a look of
serene detachment.
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