Another Edith Russell article has turned up, this one in the Church News of 12 May 1945.

Unknown Mormon Soldier Teaches by His Actions

By Edith Russell, British Mission Correspondent

They were bringing in the wounded. A surgeon stood at a bed upon which lay a young man, unconscious almost, his face a dreadful shade of grey. With deft hands the surgeon used his knife, ripping off the blood-soaked khaki. The young man opened his eyes. His lips moved. The surgeon said, “Don’t talk, son. Everything’s going to be fine.” He went on using his knife.

What was the boy wearing? Certainly strange garments for a soldier. They were stained an ugly crimson. His knife cut them from the boy’s body and they fell in the hideous heap at his feet. The young soldier’s eyes were staring into the face of the surgeon, mutely pleading. The surgeon felt strangely moved, but was at a loss to understand.

“What is it, son? Something on your mind?” He looked round at the boy’s few belongings, hoping to see something which would suggest a reason for this feverish desire to say something. There was nothing. The boy’s eyes never left those of the surgeon. Then, prompted by an impulse, the surgeon put his ear to the boy’s lips. With an effort which sent the perspiration running down his face, the boy gasped: “The garments – don’t throw them away.” The surgeon, without understanding in the least what he meant, said, “Don’t worry. I’ll have them taken care of.” And the boy, satisfied, slipped into unconsciousness.

Later, a nurse came to remove the pile of clothing. The surgeon remembered.

“Number 29 wants his clothes saved, nurse. They aren’t much good, but he asked it specially. Probably off his head when he asked me, but I’d rather do it for the kid – just in case. See to it, will you.”

A few weeks later Pfc. Calvin Powell, of Upton, Coleville, Utah, had a visitor, British Mission Secretary Norman Dunn, and to him he proudly showed the precious remnants of his temple garments.

* * *

If ever you are lucky enough to meet Lieutenant Joseph Davis, of Alder St., Salt Lake City, you will want to shake his hand. Elder Dunn wanted to – it’s a good old Mormon custom, besides which he is the sort of young man whose behavior makes it something of a privilege. But because, at that particular time, Brother Davis looked (to quote Brother Dunn) like “a well-bandaged first-aider’s model” and only three fingers of him were exposed to the eyes of man, the pleasure of shaking his hand had to be deferred.

Lieutenant Davis was testing a plane when he crashed. He sustained terrible injuries and was badly burned. He was administered to while in France, otherwise it is certain he could not have lived. He told Elder Dunn that skin had been grafted onto his eyelids and his sight remains unimpaired. Here is what one man in the same hospital ward had to say about him: “His pluck is wonderful and his behavior is just an inspiration to us all.”

The men about him thought “he had something.” Some of them called it spunk, cheerful courage, in fact all manner of names. Lt. Davis had only one name for it – the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

* * *

I got this story from a man who is employed in an “essential works” factory in the north of England. His name, Elder Herbert Walker, ex-missionary and first counselor in the Leeds District presidency.

In the canteen of this northern factory, everything was discussed from holidays to religion and Elder Walker did nothing to disguise the fact that he was a Mormon. As a result, he endured a great deal of good-natured chaffing, with a peppering of antagonism from the usual misinformed minority. Among these latter, there was one particular individual who made himself very objectionable, indeed, and Elder Walker’s tolerance and good-humor were often subjected to a severe strain. Moreover, he regretted this man’s attitude, because, apart from this sullen bitterness towards the Mormon people and their beliefs, he was quite “a good fellow,” honest, dependable, and likeable. But Mormonism remained as a red rag to a bull.

One morning, Elder Walker was in the canteen and as usual, attention was drawn to the fact that he refused tea. Things had been somewhat quiet of late and the men threw themselves into the revived situation with more than their usual zest. But in a while their enthusiasm flagged and one of them remarked that “Jim ’adn’t said nothin’ this morning.” Jim as a rule was the ringleader, but this morning had remained quietly eating his meal, and looking strangely thoughtful.

“Come on ’ere, Jim. Speak up! Let’s ’ear yer,” he was invited, and he began to speak:

“Well, lads, it’s like this. I suppose yer know my kid brother ’Arry. ’E’s on t’ continent, somewhere, doin’ ’is bit. Well, I ’ad a letter from ’im, last night, an’ it’s not like any as I’ve ’ad afore. It’s all about a chap who’s ’is pilot, and in ’Arry’s eyes, this chap is just about perfect! ’Arry says ’e’s nobbut a lad, but ’e’s clean – and a spooart to ’is men. ’E’s as brave as heck – and a reight gentleman.”

Cries of “Good lad!” and “More strength to ’im!” came from the men at the table.

“Aye, but hold on a minute,” Jim said. “This is what I wanted to tell yer. This ’ere pilot that ’Arry is a worshippin’ is – a Mormon! ’Arry says ’e don’t drink tea, don’t smoke, don’t swear an’ ’e reads ’is Bible like a good ’un. But ’Arry says the men would follow ’im to ’ell and back – only he ain’t goin’! ’Arry’s no fool, either. It looks as if I’ve been a bit ’asty, like.”

Elder Walker didn’t know that young pilot’s name, and it is fairly certain that the young pilot didn’t know Elder Walker’s. But because one young man was living truly the Gospel of Jesus Christ somewhere “on the continent” the impact was felt hundreds of miles away in the north of England, by another man who stood alone.

There is a lamp which burns night and day in Westminster Abbey, to the Unknown Soldier. This was a day upon which another Unknown Soldier lighted a lamp which will not go out.