I met an officer one day who told me he was going up to the trenches one evening past a cemetery in the wood, when he heard the sound of someone sobbing.

He looked into the place and there saw a young boy lying beside a newly made grave.

He went in and spoke to him and the boy seemed confused that he had been discovered in his sorrow.
"It's the grave of my brother, Sir," he said, "He was buried here this afternoon and now I have got to go back to the line without him." The lad dried his eyes, shouldered his rifle and went through the woodland path up to the trenches.

No one would know again the inner sorrow that had darkened his life.

The farms behind the wood made really very pleasant homes for awhile.