Produced by Sigal Alon, Christine P. Travers and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. The original spelling has been retained.
Page 17: "some with faces turned upwards," the word "turned" was crossed Page 234: Added a round bracket. (A bullet whistles by on the right of Bill's head.)]
CHILDREN OF THE DEAD END. The Autobiography of a Navvy. Ten Thousand Printed within Ten Days of Publication.
THE AMATEUR ARMY. The Experiences of a Soldier in the Making.
WITH A FOREWORD BY VISCOUNT ESHER G. C. B.
TORONTO McCLELLAND, GOODCHILD & STEWART, LIMITED
TO THE LONDON IRISH TO THE SPIRIT OF THOSE WHO FIGHT AND TO THE MEMORY OF THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED AWAY THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
_To_ PATRICK MACGILL, Rifleman No. 3008, London Irish.
There is open in France a wonderful exhibition of the work of the many gallant artists who have been serving in the French trenches through the long months of the War.
There is not a young writer, painter, or sculptor of French blood, who is not risking his life for his country. Can we make the same proud boast?
When I recruited you into the London Irish--one of those splendid regiments that London has sent to Sir John French, himself an Irishman--it was with gratitude and pride.
You had much to give us. The rare experiences of your boyhood, your talents, your brilliant hopes for the future. Upon all these the Western hills and loughs of your native Donegal seemed to have a prior claim. But you gave them to London and to our London Territorials. It was an example and a symbol.
The London Irish will be proud of their young artist in words, and he will for ever be proud of the London Irish Regiment, its deeds and valour, to which he has dedicated such great gifts. May God preserve you.
I wish the sea were not so wide That parts me from my love; I wish the things men do below Were known to God above.
I wish that I were back again In the glens of Donegal; They'll call me coward if I return, But a hero if I fall.
"Is it better to be a living coward, Or thrice a hero dead?" "It's better to go to sleep, my lad," The Colour Sergeant said.