Corporal Hamish Seton Watson 1831-1856
Three men knelt by their stricken comrade.
‘Hold on, Watson. The surgeon's coming.’
‘Stay with us, Corporal,’ his lieutenant ordered. ‘The DCM cannot be awarded posthumously.’
The injured corporal’s eyes fluttered even as his trembling ceased.
The surgeon shook his head, and drew the blanket over Watson’s face.
“Does... he have a family?’
‘Aye. A wife and two sons.’
‘His actions today saved us all.’
‘I know, but there is nothing for it now. He’s gone.’
‘Perhaps we can secure a future for his sons. You know, support and educate them?’
‘Yes, we owe the man at least that much.’
.oOOo.
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