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Sgt HL Pearce

    

530095 Sgt WL Peters

 

2/6/17

Dear Mr & Mrs Pearce,

 

        When in France I asked your son Leslie – my nearest friend – to write home to my mother in the event of anything untoward happening to me; & in accordance with his wish that I should do as much for him in like circumstances, I am writing this letter.

It is not an easy letter to write, and I don’t know whether it will bring you anything of comfort in your great sorrow.  But it was his wish, & please God, it will help you to know how he lived & died, & to feel that your loss is shared by all who knew him & worked under him.

He was, I have said, my nearest friend, & no one could have wished for a better pal. He was generous to a fault, & especially so in the whole-hearted help he gave to his junior N.C.Os, never being too busy with his own work to be able to help some less experienced man.  In the firing line he set an example of steadfastness & devotion to duty which kept many of us straight in those bad hours which sometime come.  No matter what the strafing was like, at what hour of the day or night it might be, he was always about with his men, encouraging them by his presence, & stimulating by his example.

His end was merciful – a rifle bullet passed through his brain killing him instantaneously.  All that was possible was done to make his funeral a decent & reverent ceremony.  His body, covered by the Red Cross Flag, was borne to the grave by four of his fellow sergeants, & those of us who were free from duty attended the service which was conducted by the Brigade chaplain. Several wreaths were sent by various sections of the battalion, made with their own hands from the beautiful wild flowers which abound here – in token of the affection & esteem with which he was regarded by all ranks.  A simple wooden cross surmounts the grave.

The little British cemetery in which he sleeps is situated in a beautiful, sheltered ravine, behind the firing line. Wild flowers such as he loved, and birds innumerable give the place a sense of peace, & one feels that it is indeed God’s Acre.

I cannot write consoling words, but my heart goes out in sympathy with you in your great loss. Our loss is only less great than yours, for we have lost a good friend.  But if it be our lot to fall in this war, God grant we may be as worthy to die as he was.

                                      Yours most sincerely & sympathetically

W.L. Peters

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