Chapter XII: Part 12

Of course our young friend wanted to do the magnanimous thing by the enemy, sending round word to them, "Here we come! Get ready!" But what he did do was to take advantage of the quiet exchange of the two Russian regiments and the total ignorance in which the Austrian members of the nightly smoking club in the ravine still remained, and to creep noiselessly forward to the spot where the friends of the night before were on guard. The Austrian sentinels--three of them--dozed, wrapped in their blankets. The Russians crept stealthily forward. * * *

"What else could we do?" asked the Junior Subaltern. "Humanitarian ideas are in blank contradiction to the present war. Civilians at home may try to judge everything in accordance with these ideas. Well, we know they are mistaken. Oh, they are simply ridiculous!" ended the Junior Subaltern, his good-natured, broad face blushing at making such a bold statement in company.

II--"WHEN WE LEAVE NO WOUNDED ALIVE"

"Such nonsense!" he went on. "Of course, at the back of our minds the horror of it is always present. But what else can you do? Standing in blood up to your throat, and knowing that you have to protect your men, to protect yourself. * * * And what difference does it make to them whether you shoot them or throttle them? * * * About a hundred paces from those three sentinels there were at least a hundred others, and two hundred yards off were the Austrian trenches. The least noise, a groan, the stifled cry of a wounded Austrian would be the end of everything for my scouts; and there were only thirty of us. That was when I gave the order not to leave any wounded alive. * * *"

It was an evident relief to him to be interrupted.

"Oh, yes, I remember!" said one of us. "I was in camp when the Austrian officer, routed out in his sleep, was brought in on the run in his nightshirt. The whole thing went rapidly and well, and you took a machine gun from the Austrians!"

Another of us said:

"I don't see what you are driving at! There's no analogy at all! What you did was no hitting of those who were down already. All sorts of conventions and international law would justify you!"

"Well," answered the Junior Subaltern, "did I not say that there was such a thing as justifiable killing of the wounded, for us as for the Germans? Besides, I got decorated for the job! Ouch! It is going to thaw! I know, because my wounded leg aches!"

His smile was so frank and his face so full of the bloom of youth as he thus changed the subject that it was quite evident that he did not change it from any false modesty, but simply because the subject--including his own distinguished part in it--had no further interest for him.

"You have been wounded?"

"Yes. Two bullets in my leg, one in my arm, one in the abdomen."

"And you are still alive?"

"As you see! It was that devilish machine gun! The bullet that entered my abdomen cut through the intestines, touched my stomach, and came out by my back. When I regained consciousness I heard the doctor saying: 'Put this one aside; he will die in a minute or two!' And some of my men dug a nice grave for me and wrote my name and the date on a board, and sat down patiently to wait for my funeral. But I didn't die. So the surgeon had to send me to hospital. But when the ambulance was starting I heard him say: 'It's not a bit of use! He'll die on the way there!' But I cheated the doctors. I'm quite a rare specimen!"

"You are indeed!" And we all laughed, so contagious was Lieutenant X.'s laughter.

"The Medical Council," he went on, "explained it by the fact that, for two whole days previously, I had had nothing to eat. * * * hadn't had time! It was on the Stripa. The moment our regiment arrived at ---- we had to fight."

HOW WE FOILED "U 39" IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE

_Adventures Aboard a Horse Transport_

_Told by H. O. Read, Late First Officer S.S. "Anglo-Californian"_

This story relates what happened when the horse transport
"Anglo-Californian" met the "U 39." The captain and twenty men lost
their lives, and eight more were wounded; but the heroism of the
commander and his officers saved the ship and her valuable cargo.
Personal experiences recorded in the _Wide World Magazine_.

I--"WE CROSS THE ATLANTIC ON THE _ANGLO-CALIFORNIAN_"

Ever since the 18th of February, 1915, when a blockade of the seas round the British Isles was declared by Germany, seamen navigating in the waters of the war-zone have had a most anxious time in consequence of the activity of the German submarine and their callous methods in dealing with defenceless merchant vessels.

Our ship, the _Anglo-Californian_, had made a number of voyages across the Atlantic, and had so far been fortunate enough to get through the war-zone each time without encountering any of the enemy's submarines. We had always congratulated ourselves on our good fortune, but on the voyage I am about to describe our luck seemed to have deserted us.

It was the morning of the 4th of July, about eight o'clock. I had almost completed my watch and was on the point of being relieved by the third officer when, taking a final look round the horizon before leaving the bridge, I noticed the small cloud of blue smoke on the surface of the water about a mile away on our port beam.

For the moment I was rather puzzled as to what it could be, there being no craft of any description in sight from which it could come. I was not long kept in doubt, however, for as the cloud of smoke gradually lifted I caught sight of the conning-tower and long, low hull of a submarine, which I knew at once must be a German, as our under-sea craft were not operating in this vicinity.

She had apparently just come to the surface after locating us with her periscope, and, seeing everything clear, immediately gave chase.

Ordering the man at the wheel to put the helm over, thus bringing the submarine directly astern of us, I informed the captain of the presence of the enemy. He immediately came on the bridge and proceeded to take all necessary steps to try and outrace the submarine. We were quite unarmed, so flight was our only chance.

The chief engineer was summoned and told to raise all the steam he possibly could and drive the ship for all she was worth, and the extra speed that was very quickly attained was convincing proof of the way in which he and his staff carried out these orders.

Almost immediately after sighting the submarine the captain ordered the wireless operator to send out the "S.O.S." call for help. This was promptly answered, and we were informed that assistance was being sent us with all possible speed.

The captain, myself, the second officer (who was the captain's son), and the third officer were now on the upper bridge, anxiously watching our pursuer through the glasses. To our dismay we noticed that she was slowly but surely gaining on us.

It was not until a quarter of nine that she first opened fire, this presumably being a warning shot, as it fell wide on our port side. The captain took heed of the summons, however; he merely smiled and gave orders to telephone down to the engineers to "keep her going" as hard as they could.

A second warning shot was fired, falling clear of the ship on the starboard bow, but this also was unheeded.

Those on the submarine, observing that our speed was increasing and that no notice was taken of their shots, evidently came to the conclusion that we were going to make a run for it, and forthwith they commenced to fire shell after shell at us. At first they tried to bring down the wireless apparatus, so as to prevent us from getting into communication with the patrol vessels, but this, as I have previously stated, we had already done, and were now in continuous communication with them, giving them our now rapidly-changing positions. Unfortunately for us, however, the patrols were some distance away, and there was not much chance of their being able to reach us for two to three hours. What would happen meanwhile was hard to say; certainly our chances of getting away from our pursuer looked very small indeed.

II--"SHELLS WERE BURSTING AROUND OUR VESSEL"

The fire from the submarine now became more rapid, but was not always effective, as Captain Parslow, heedless of the shells which were dropping and bursting all round the vessel, kept the quartermaster at the wheel constantly working his helm so as to keep the submarine almost directly astern of us, thereby making the ship as small a target as possible. Momentarily, however, the submarine drew nearer and the shell-fire more and more deadly. Almost every shot now found its mark, striking the vessel at various points on the quarters and round the stern. Forsaking the wireless, their aim was now evidently the rudder or propeller, so as to totally disable us and thus have the vessel at their mercy.

When the firing first commenced our crew, including the horse attendants, and numbering about a hundred and fifty all told, had been warned to be ready to go to their boat-stations at a moment's notice in case of emergency, and consequently everybody, with the exception of the engineers and firemen working below, was now on deck.

No signs of panic were shown until a shell, bursting amidships, killed three of the horsemen. Then a rush was made for the starboard after lifeboats, and men began scrambling into and overloading them. The result would have been disastrous if the captain, drawing my attention to it, had not ordered me to go and threaten to shoot anyone who did not immediately come out and wait until orders were given for the boats to be lowered.

This had the desired effect, quelling the panic for the time being.

The submarine--she was the "U 39," we noticed--was now only about five or six hundred yards astern, and our case began to look hopeless. Not once, however, did the captain waver from his intention never to surrender. His coolness and courage were remarkable, and went a long way to inspire confidence in those under him.

The shells were now bursting all over the vessel and playing havoc with the deck structures. They tore through the horse-fittings, killing numbers of the unfortunate horses, and also wounded several of the men, who were now clustered in groups near the boats.

Just at this moment a signal to us to "abandon ship" was observed flying from the submarine, and the firing suddenly ceased, the intention apparently being to give us time to get into the boats and leave the vessel. This, however, our captain had no intention of doing, and after hastily consulting the chief engineer and myself he decided to get as many of the crew away from the ship as possible, as they were in imminent danger of being killed by the bursting shells. The remainder of us were to stand by him and keep the ship going until the very last.

The man at the wheel was sent to take his place in the boats, and the majority of the crew were ordered to do the same.

The firemen--who had up to this moment been working below--now came on deck, and made a rush for the boats before the order was given. Driving them out at the muzzles of our revolvers, we persuaded them to keep cool and wait until they were told to take their places.

These firemen, who were Arabs, were now thoroughly frightened, and would on no account return to the stokehold, though the captain offered £20 to any man who would do so.

During the time the firing ceased--which was not more than five minutes--we got the port after lifeboat away, full of men, and were preparing to lower the others when we received a wireless message from the patrol steamer, saying that they could see the smoke from our funnel. They told us to keep going, and to hold the submarine at bay as long as possible, as they were coming towards us with all possible speed.

It was at this moment that the captain shouted to the firemen to return to the stokehold, offering, as already stated, £20 to any man who would do so, but this they refused to do.

The chief and second engineers, with the donkeyman, nobly responded to the captain's request, and immediately rushed down to the stokehold and engine-room, where they worked like Trojans to get as much steam as possible to keep the vessel going.

As soon as it became apparent to those on the submarine that we were not going to give in they commenced firing again, and with deadly effect, for the boat was now only about a hundred yards behind us.

One of the shells, bursting directly behind the funnel, struck the davit of the after lifeboat, which was now full of men and in the very act of being lowered. It severed the tackle, causing the boat to drop into the water, where it capsized, throwing all its occupants into the sea.

Another shell, fired almost directly afterwards, struck the davit of the port forward boat, cutting it completely in half. The boat, which was hanging in the tackle with seven men in it, was blown almost to fragments and nearly all its occupants killed.

There now only remained one boat fit for use, the other two remaining ones being too badly damaged to put into the water. This boat was now manned and rapidly lowered over the side, with the chief steward in charge; and it was chiefly due to his skilful handling that she finally got away clear of the ship, as she was in danger of being smashed to pieces by the now rapidly-revolving propeller as she floated astern.

III--STOOD AT THEIR POSTS LIKE HEROES

There were now only thirty-two of the one hundred and fifty members of the ship's company left on board, including the captain, officers, and engineers, and our chances of getting out of our present predicament certainly looked small.

The second, who had now taken the wheel, was skilfully steering the ship under the captain's orders. He kept the submarine--which was now close upon us--almost directly astern, and the position of both father and son was one of extreme danger, for fragments of the bursting shells were constantly striking the navigating bridge, and the couple had frequently to lie prone on the deck to avoid being struck. Their coolness and courage, however, never forsook them, and they remained at their posts like heroes, without the slightest sign of fear.

We now noticed--greatly to our relief--the smoke of a steamer on our starboard side, and this we rightly judged to be the patrol ship hurrying to our help.

As she gradually came into sight, in response to a request by our captain over the wireless, she fired at the submarine, but the distance was too great, and the shot fell short.

We made sure that our pursuer would now give up the chase and submerge to get out of danger, but instead she crowded on extra speed and drew up alongside our steamer. She kept carefully under our lee, thus sheltering herself for the time being from any further shots from the patrol steamer. From this position she fired shell after shell into us.

It was now an impossibility to keep the submarine any longer astern, as her superior speed enabled her to keep abreast of us.

We counted thirteen men on her deck, some of them manipulating the gun, and others armed with rifles, with which they kept up a constant fire, endeavouring to pick off anyone they could see on our decks.

Those on the approaching patrol steamer, comprehending our position and expecting every moment to see the ship torpedoed, sent us a wireless message to throw lines and ropes over the side and try to foul the submarine's propeller, and thus stop her. If possible we might also try and ram her. Ramming was out of the question, on account of the German's superior speed, but, acting on the first suggestion, under the captain's orders I went along and threw some of our mooring-ropes overboard, but the scheme was apparently ineffective, as the submarine still kept her place on our port side.

It was just at this moment, as I was returning from carrying out these orders, that a shell fired from the submarine, and aimed directly at the bridge, struck our gallant captain and literally blew him to pieces.

The second officer at the wheel was stunned and almost blinded by the report, and his escape from death was a miracle, as the captain was only a few feet away when killed. Fragments of the shell actually tore away some of the spokes of the wheel which he held at the time.

As I gained the lower bridge he came down smothered in blood, dazed and stunned by the shock of the explosion, and horrified at witnessing the death of his brave father.

To remain on either of the bridges now was out of the question, as the submarine was only fifty yards from us, running abreast. The Hun crew had clamped a Maxim on the top of their quick-firing gun and, using this, together with their rifles, they kept up a constant fire fore and aft.

The patrol steamer was still about two miles away, but coming towards us at top speed, with smoke pouring from her funnel. But would she reach us in time before the pirates sent us to the bottom? We were now in imminent danger of being torpedoed, the submarine being in a splendid position to launch her deadly missile.

Seeing this, I called the wireless operators away from their posts, to which they had gamely stuck through the whole of the firing, and shouted down to the two engineers to come on deck. Gathering together the remainder of my men, we made our way along the bullet-swept decks, taking shelter where and when we could. We cut everything floatable adrift in case the ship went under so as to give us a better chance of being picked up by our rescuers.

IV--"WE SAW THE SUBMARINE SUBMERGE"

The deck of our vessel was a sickening sight. Dead, dying, and wounded men lay in all directions, and blood seemed to be everywhere.

We gathered the wounded together and got them under cover, and with the able help of our veterinary surgeon attended to them as best we could.

Nothing more could now be done. We were momentarily expecting the torpedo to strike the vessel and finish her, and stood ready to jump clear of the ship when she went under.

But the torpedo did not arrive. Instead, we saw the crew of the submarine hurrying to get their gun below and preparing to submerge. The cause of this manoeuvre was the sudden appearance of two destroyers, racing towards us at full speed.

The submarine rapidly disappeared under the water, and in a few moments more the two destroyers and the patrol steamer were alongside and darting all round us in hopes of getting a shot at her.

We sent up a rousing cheer when we saw our rescuers approach; we could scarcely realize that we were saved.

I at once got in communication with the commander of one of the destroyers and asked him to search for our boats and any of our crew who happened to be in the water and pick them up.

This they at once started to do, and in a very short time informed me that they had rescued ninety-seven of them and would proceed to Queenstown and land them.

On making an examination of our steamer, we found, in addition to considerable damage round the decks, that she had been badly holed below the waterline, and was taking water rapidly.

We at once set to work and plugged the holes up with bales of hay and bags of fodder, at the same time giving the vessel a list so as to bring the damaged plates out of the water as much as possible.

When this had been done I informed the commander of the remaining destroyer, and told him that we were ready to proceed, but that it would be necessary to go into Queenstown, the nearest port, to land our dead and wounded.

He replied that this would be the best course to adopt, and that he would convoy us into port.

We accordingly headed for Queenstown, and duly arrived there late that night, where we were treated with the greatest courtesy and kindness by the Admiralty officials.

The dead were removed and the wounded taken to the naval hospital, where their injuries were attended to.

Meanwhile the Admiralty took the vessel in hand, and immediately commenced temporary repairs on her, and in less than twenty-four hours I was able to leave the port and proceed with her to Avonmouth, our destination, under the escort of two destroyers.

The remains of our brave captain and of those who fell with him were buried in Queenstown the following day, being accorded full naval honours. The Admiral of the port himself attended, and the respect and regard shown by the townspeople, as the remains of these heroes were laid to rest, was very marked.

No tribute is too great to pay to the memory of the late Captain Parslow, who died like the gallant seaman he was, giving his life in an endeavour to save his ship and the lives of those under his command.

His son, the second officer, for the pluck and courage he displayed in remaining at the wheel during the firing, has been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. The chief engineer received the same decoration, and I myself was the recipient of a handsome gold watch, suitably inscribed, "From the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty," as was likewise the second engineer and the senior Marconi operator.

The conduct of both the third officer and the junior Marconi operator deserves great praise, for they displayed splendid courage and coolness in carrying out their duties during the attack.

Lloyd's showed their appreciation of our efforts by presenting a substantial cheque, expressing at the same time their sincere regret for the loss of the heroic Captain Parslow.

The crew of the submarine, presumably, duly received Iron Crosses for their glorious day's work.

MY WORST EXPERIENCE IN MESOPOTAMIA

_Told by a Man Who Stopped a Bullet_

The writer of this vivid narrative, a British soldier, was
wounded in Mesopotamia during an unsuccessful attempt to relieve
Kut-el-Amara, shortly before its fall. Recorded in _Current
History_.

I slipped my left hand into my tunic and was surprised to feel the hot blood pouring out. Then it dawned on me that I had been hit, and pretty badly, too. My equipment was hurting me, so I took it off.

I felt very dizzy, and decided to try and get back as far as I could. I stood up, a very unwise thing to do, considering that I was about 150 yards from the Turkish trench and must have made an easy mark, but I was not hit again immediately. My legs gave way and I collapsed and lay flat for a time. I thought if I was not to bleed to death I must make an effort to put my field bandage in place. So with difficulty I pulled it from my tunic pocket. The outer covering came off easily, and I took out one of the packets, but could see no way to slit it open. Finally I gripped the edge of the packet in my teeth and tore at it with both hands till it opened. I put the pad on the wound, as near as I could, but had no means of keeping it there, so I staggered to my feet and ran on, keeping the pad in place with my left hand. I believe I covered another fifty yards when I dropped again and lay in a kind of stupor.

I was aroused by the almost continuous "krock" of bursting shrapnel. Shells were dropping right and left, and the air was full of moaning and screaming as the bullets flew by. I managed to get on my feet again, although the effort made the blood spurt out anew. The sodden pad had slipped down and a burning pain in the pit of my stomach caused me to double up in agony and slide onto my knees. I started crawling painfully along until I came to a small mound which would at least afford "head over." I crept behind it and lay in the only position I could, on my left side.

I passed my hand over myself to feel for a wound, but could not find one. The bullet had entered the small of my back and lodged under my breast bone. Gradually the more intense pain passed away, leaving a not unpleasant sense of numbness over all my body.

The persistent calling of a man in pain brought me back to consciousness. The pitiless sun was blazing high in the heavens, and I felt hot and dry. Somebody was shouting "Fetch the stretcher-bearers, you fools: are you going to leave me here?" At first I felt very sorry for him, but soon wished he would stop, for I had a shocking headache. I judged it to be about midday, and thought that in another six hours I had a good chance of being brought in.

I was horrified to see that the water of the Suwaicha Marsh, which was on our right flank, had risen considerably, and I feared for any of our wounded who were further out on the right and unable to crawl away from the menace. The man who was shouting stopped, and everything was strangely calm and peaceful. I felt very happy and contented then, for as long as I kept quite still the pain was very dull, so I began singing and mumbling away in a quiet voice:

"Where my caravan has rested
Flowers I'll strew there on the grass."

I sang again and again, accompanied by a strange roaring in my chest. My caravan, I thought, had rested in some very unusual places, but none so unusual as this. And what was the use of talking about the grass in the desert of Mesopotamia, where there is nothing but the yellow earth, the blue sky, the hot sun, and dirty water?

There was a water bottle, equipment, and rifle lying close to my head, and I have a vague remembrance of a Sikh lying beside me for a time and then jumping up and running back. I slowly put my right arm up, caught the sling, and dragged the bottle nearer. I pulled the cork out somehow, and propped the bottle against my face, with the neck to my lips, but was much upset to find I had not the strength to lift it up. Tears rolled down my cheeks after I had made two or three attempts, for I was very thirsty. I sang no more, as my throat was harsh and lumpy. So I lay staring at the yellow and blue till I lost consciousness once more.

This time I was roused by our own guns, and the sound was most comforting. "Giving 'em hell," I thought gleefully. They bombarded for about an hour, and then I slipped back into unconsciousness. It was getting dark when I came to again. A man was standing close to me, staring round the field. Somebody had put my sun helmet on my head. He came over to me. "Are the stretcher-bearers coming?" I asked, and he told me I was the next to be moved. It was not long before the bearers came, and they put the stretcher behind me. It was painful work getting on the stretcher, as I could not bear to have my body touched anywhere. However, it was managed at last, and I lay on my left side.

I suppose they went as gently as they could, but every step racked my body so much that I was nearly mad with pain. I cannot remember how far it was to the dressing station, but I remember passing through the artillery lines, where the guns had started again. I was put on a table, still on the stretcher, and was pleased to see our battalion doctor. "Well, laddie," he said, "how are you?" I replied that I was all right, but thought it "a bit thick" having to lie out there all day. Then he started cutting my clothes up, jersey and shirt as well. The dressing was by no means painful, but they left my hand untouched. I asked for something to drink, but the doctor said they would give me all I wanted at the field hospital.

Then began the worst experience I have ever been through. I was taken to a native springless mule cart, with a few sacks and blankets thrown in the bottom, and helped off the stretcher. The slightest movement caused great pain, but when the cart started bumping off I was in a positive inferno. I will not dwell on that four-mile journey from the marsh to the riverside; suffice it to say that what little breath I could summon was used in praying the driver to stop and leave me on the ground.

We came to the field hospital at last. The natives pushed a stretcher into the cart beside me, and one intelligent fellow nimbly jumped up and stood on my smashed hand. That was the last straw. I cursed him. When I stopped for want of breath they attempted to lift me on to the stretcher, but I begged them to stop. I tried to get on by myself, but could only manage to get my knees on and could not lift my body. The natives were chattering round the cart, so I started shouting "English, English. Fetch English," and at last a "Jock" came up to see what was wrong. I begged him to put his hand under my shoulder and help me on the stretcher, and in a moment I was lying on my stomach--not very comfortable on account of my laboured breathing, but it was a rest for my left side. When my hand had been cleaned and dressed I was put on a mattress in a bell tent, where I tossed about in a high fever.

In the morning I was put in a paddle-boat, and I slept till it started in the afternoon. We were taken ashore at Orah that night, and there received better attention. I was placed on the operating table and the bullet located and removed.

I will not describe my stay at Orah or the trip down the Tigris in the paddle-boat to Bussorah. My hand was a fearful size and very painful. When the ship was moored in front of Bussorah Hospital I was very weak. Two orderlies helped me on to the stretcher, and I was carried down the gangway to the entrance of the hospital. A Major took particulars and consigned me to a veranda ward on the second floor. And so I was placed in one of the whitest, cleanest, and most comfortable beds in the world.

SPIRIT OF YOUNG AMERICA--HOW WE WENT "OVER THE TOP"

_Experiences of a New York Boy with the Canadians_

_Told by (name withheld), Wounded in France_

This is a letter from an American boy at the front. It symbolizes
the spirit of young America. In his frank, simple, human way, he
tells with outbursts of quaint humor how he went "over the top,"
faced death, was wounded, and longs to get back into the fight. It
is but one of the tens of thousands of private letters that are
reaching friends in America every time a ship comes in from Europe.

I--"IN WAY OF FRITZ'S SHELLS"

1st Canadian Hospital, France,
August 27, 1917.

Well, at last old man, I am writing to you. I am sorry I have not answered your last letter sooner. I have no good excuse to offer, so I guess I'll still cling to the old thread-bare one of "too busy." I guess my dear Mary will have told you that I am in hospital recovering from a little wound, the penalty of getting in the way of one of Fritz's shells. I am glad to say that I am going along nicely and hope to be about again very soon. I got hit just back of the knee, over the hamstring tendon, "whatever that is." I guess I ought to be thankful it was no worse. In a week or so I shall be none the worse for the experience. Believe me, it was some experience. You know--one of those times when you hear invisible bands playing "Home Sweet Home" and "He's Gone Where They Don't Play Billiards."

I guess, dear George, you would like a little of the news of how I am passing the weary months away. Well, at times it's not so bad. We have our little bit of fun, for you know I'm one of those guys that makes the best of it. We get many a laugh. We have got the knack of being easily amused. We often get a smile out of things at which if it wasn't for the surroundings we should feel like shuddering.

I cannot tell you much on account of the censor. But I can tell you a little of the experience I had last Wednesday week, the 15th, the time we had the pleasure (?) of going "over the top" and getting in close touch with Fritz. We had been expecting it to come off for a long time and I think the period of waiting was the worst part of the whole affair. We had only been out of the line a couple of days and such awful days they were; the time we had been in, it was up to our knees in mud. Well, anyway, the order came along for us to go back and make an attempt to pull the job off. The day before they tried to make things as pleasant as possible. We had a band concert almost all day long, and then as soon as it got dark we started forward to take up our position to wait for the big show at daybreak.

Our first trouble was gas. We had our masks on in about two seconds. I guess you have seen pictures of these masks. But believe me, when you get a bunch of men moving cautiously across country they're enough to scare a fellow out of a month's growth. Eventually we got there. But the position we were to take up was being peppered with Fritz's iron rations. So we were told to move to another place and dig ourselves in. Again he located us and made it unhealthy, so we had to move again. We were in a great mood then, for we had worked like niggers and had just got comfortable when the order came to move. We contented ourselves that we would square matters in the morning.

At a quarter of four (daybreak) we settled down to wait for the signal for the big show to start. There certainly was some excitement in the air. Almost as much as when in a game of pool the fifteen ball's over the hole and it's your shot next. Through some cause or other matters we were delayed twenty-five minutes--the longest minutes I have ever lived. Each minute seemed like an hour. Long after the war is all over and forgotten, I think I shall remember that long, weary wait.

II--"WHAT I SAW WHEN I WENT 'OVER'"

At last, we got the signal and the barrage and bombardment started. I have read of bombardments and I have seen them described pretty vividly, but no description or imagination could make anyone realize what they are really like. Every thing we had, opened up at the same second--silent batteries that had been there for weeks without firing a shot, just waiting for this event to be pulled off. It seemed as if the very earth was swaying. But don't think we had it all our own way. For Fritz had quite a number of iron foundries he wanted to get rid of, and he started up almost as soon as we did.

We found out afterwards, that they knew we were "going over." In fact, their officers had been officially warned to be prepared for an attack at 4 A.M. So I guess they had their anxious wait as well as we. Fritz's fireworks' display was simply wonderful. Rockets and flare-lights of every color and description went up, but I didn't stop to admire it. I was too busy and scarcely in the mood to admire anything. Everything had to be done by signals. The noise was so deafening that even if you shouted at the top of your voice you couldn't be heard.

The first wave went over at 4:25 A.M. Everything possible in what they call modern warfare was used--liquid fire, oil, tanks and a dozen different things to get Fritz's wind up. And believe me, we did get it up! For thirty minutes after we went "over" we had them on the run. All I am sorry about is that we could not keep them going _until they reached Berlin_.

Believe me, old man, it was some fight! Some of the things I saw myself, I would not have believed if I hadn't seen them with my own eyes. Some of the fellows just went crazy. One fellow was fighting away with only half a rifle in his hand, and yet there was dozens of good ones lying around if he had only taken a moment to pick one up. Others were throwing bombs just like bricks. You know the bombs we use out here mostly are the kind we saw at that New York Red Cross bazaar--perhaps you remember them. Before they explode you have to pull the safety pin out, and then they burst four seconds later. Well, some of the guys didn't pull the pins out; they just used them like bricks. Gee, it put me in mind of a good old Summer Lane scrap, but anyhow it was enough to get them on the hustle.

There were many other little incidents, some that I saw myself, and others that I heard coming down on the hospital train. One of our fellows took two prisoners only armed with a lighted candle. This happened after we had been occupying Fritz's front line several hours. Leaving his rifle at the top, he went down into one of Fritz's saps "looking for souvenirs, I guess." Well, he lit his candle and there in the corner were two great hulking fellows. I guess they were more scared than he was. Up went their hands with the same old cry: "Not me, Mister, Mercy, Kamerad." We had a laugh afterwards for the guy who brought them up, looked as if he had been scared stiff. I'll bet he never goes down a strange sap again unarmed. Later on they caught another five in one of the other saps.

There were dozens of little incidents like this. So far so good--but the worst had yet to come. We had captured three villages and the famous hill. When I say there had been five previous attempts to get the hill alone, for he had occupied it for two and a half years, you will see that it was some accomplishment. They put over ten counter-attacks. I didn't count them. I was too interested and busy with other things to bother about counting anything. They came over in the old massed formation style. It seems a crazy style to me, for their losses must have been enormous. Every time they came over they got smashed, and were glad to beat it back, or at least as many of them as were able to. That continued practically all day.

III--ON AN ADVANCE POST

As soon as it was dark, I was detailed along with a bunch of other fellows to go out as reinforcements to our left flank. My friend Jones, another fellow and I, were put on an advanced bombing post. Every once in a while they would attempt to come over on us. It kept us pretty busy, and also kept us from getting sleepy.

In the early morning one of Fritz's planes came flying over us. One of our fellows couldn't resist the temptation of drawing a bead on him, although it's against all orders for us to fire on aircraft. The chances of hitting him are about a thousand to one. Well, the "son of a gun" made a dive and swooped over us with his machine gun. I don't think he got anybody, but he came so low that some of our guns got him. He dropped like a stone. I was almost sorry to see it, for I am still a sport and that guy certainly had got grit.

Well, these little events kept happening all day long. Then at four o'clock in the afternoon my friend Jones got hit. It was during one of his attacks--he got inquisitive, took a peek over the parapet, and got it in the cheek. Two hours later I got hit--this was the second time I had been hit. The first was so slight I didn't leave the line, but this time I had just had about as much as I cared for. So I got first aid and waited until things had quieted down a little, and then made my way to a dugout to wait until it got dark.

About nine o'clock, I started to beat it for the dressing station. But believe me, old man, it was easier said than done, for we had advanced over a mile over No Man's Land and I had to go all over that way again. There were three of us that started. The other two were just slightly wounded--one in the shoulder and the other in the wrist. But poor me, having it in the knee, was worst of the bunch. I couldn't move fast, it had stiffened me so.

Well, we had our little adventures going across. Once I got entangled in the barbed wire. And then when we saw several fellows ahead of us--we just dropped in a shell hole, and waited for them to move off. After a wait of about fifteen minutes, they didn't move. The fellow with the hit in the shoulder crawled forward to find out who they were. He was gone so long we were just making up our minds to make a wide circuit of them, "for none of us were armed"--we had thrown everything away so we could move quicker. Just as we had given him up he came back with the news it was one of our own working parties fixing wires. The reason he had been so long was because he had been waiting to catch some of the conversation to see whether it was English or not.

Away we started again. We were nearing our old front line when Fritz caught us with one of his flare-lights. Of course the next minute it was Whiss-siss-siss-pop-pop-pop! They had turned a machine gun on us. Then came another wait in a shell hole. Eventually I reached the dressing station. I had my leg dressed and a few bits of sticking plaster put on various parts of my body. I was put on a motor ambulance and the next morning woke up in a hospital clearing station to find my old friend Jones sitting up in a bed opposite me.

Well, we had a good laugh for we are like the Siamese twins. Wherever one is the other is not far off--at least it has been that way since coming to France. And the objects we looked, he with a face as big as two, and me with my clothing all muddy and torn and various other changes. We'd have made a good picture entitled, "After the Fight." Later on we were taken on a hospital train to this place, but I shall be glad when I can get about again. I feel more lonesome here than I ever have in all my life. It's the weariness of lying here with nothing to do that gets my "goat." Nevertheless it's great to be human again and among civilization again. The first few days I appreciated it all right, for I did not have a wink of sleep from the Monday night and scarcely anything to eat or drink.

Now don't forget, old man, to drop me a line and let me know how everything is in dear old New York. So now good-bye for the present, hoping you WILL remember me to all old friends.

Your old friend,

LABAN.

P. S. I am enclosing a little souvenir, one of Fritz's field cards. I was amusing myself on the back of it with a few verses.

[Transcribed text from the postcard:]

Over The Top

1 "Did you ever go over the top?" he said, "Did you ever go over the top? Did you sweep along an unbroken line, With bayonets gleaming, and eyes ashine And a feeling that went to your head like wine, The time you went over the top?"

2 "Did you ever go over the top?" he said, "Did you ever go over the top? Did the flarelights shine on a glorious sight As they pierced the dawn in the changing light; Did you thrill with a feeling of savage delight, The time you went over the top?"

3 "Did you ever go over the top?" he said, "Did you ever go over the top? Oh, tell me" he said "how you held up your head Of the things that you thought and the things that you said, Of your glorious pride as with the men you sped Far away over the top."

4 "Oh yes, I've been over the top," I said, "You bet I've been over the top. But I felt alone in the flare-lights glare. And Mauser bullets were singeing my hair, And my knees were knocking together for fair, The night I went over the top."

5 "Oh yes, I've been over the top," I said, "You bet I've been over the top. But it's lonesome out there in no man's land And you miss the crowd and you miss the band And your feet take root in the place you stand, The night you go over the top."

6 "Oh yes, I've been over the top There was yards of wire got attached to my clothes And how I got out of it God only knows A secret I fear he will never disclose Till I'm finally "over the top."

7 "Oh yes, I've been over the top," I said, "You bet I've been over the top. The artillery raised a continuous roar-- They'd been at it, it seemed for a week or more-- And old man I was sweating at every pore The night I went over the top."

8 "Oh yes, I've been over the top," I said, "You bet I've been over the top. The noise and confusion, the shouts and the groans Had paralysed action and frozen my bones When a fellow went past me,--I think it was Jones, He was headed back over the top."

9 "Oh yes, I've been over the top," I said, You bet I've been over the top And since Jones has a blighty and wasn't napoo, If they're handing them out "I thought" me for one too. And blest if I didn't--in fact I got two, The night I went over the top.

New York isn't the only place people hustle

THE SINKING OF THE "PROVENCE II"

_Told by M. Bokanowski, Deputy of the Department of the Seine_

The French auxiliary cruiser _La Provence II_, formerly a
passenger liner, was sunk by a submarine in the eastern end of the
Mediterranean while serving as a troop transport. Nearly 4,000 men
are said to have been on board, of whom only 870 were saved. One of
the survivors, M. Bokanowski, wrote this thrilling description to
President Poincaré of France:

MONSIEUR LE PRESIDENT: You are doubtless familiar, in all its details, with the fate of the _Provence II_. I should like to describe to you--to assuage in a measure the grief of France--the noble behaviour of those who made ready at that moment, between sea and sky, to die for their country.

We had on board a battalion and some detachments of the Third Colonial Regiment of Infantry. At the moment of the explosion I was on the bridge, with the commander of the ship, his second in command, and several of the higher officers. We directed the steps to be taken, distributing lifebelts, superintending the launching of boats and liferafts. Not an outcry, not a complaint, not the slightest sign of panic--only the dignified tranquillity of men who long ago had consecrated their lives to the sublime cause that had put arms in their hands.

Everybody would have been saved had it depended only on officers and crew. Unfortunately the ship sank rapidly. The water soon found its way into the boilers. When they began to explode, about ten minutes past 5, I jumped into the sea and swam as fast as I could in order to get beyond the radius of suction. A few moments later there were several deafening explosions. I turned and saw the end. The ship was going down stern foremost. Captain Vesco, still standing on the bridge, cried in a voice above the uproar: "Vive la France!" The survivors, swimming about the ship, or safe on boats and rafts, saw the _Provence_ make a sudden plunge, her forward deck standing perpendicular in the air. They, in their turn, saluted with a cry of "Vive la France!" It was a quarter past 5.

After swimming for half an hour I succeeded in reaching an overloaded raft, the occupants of which pulled me aboard. Night was falling, the wind was chill and nipped the flesh of the men, who were almost entirely naked. Throughout the endless night, not a whimper! My companions in misfortune had no words except to lament the fate of those who were drowned and to curse the Boche, who, neither before nor after his treacherous shot, had dared to appear and show his flag. In water up to the waist, with teeth chattering from the cold, but upheld by the desire to survive and be able to punish the villains, we were picked up eighteen hours later by a trawler. Several men had died from the cold on the rafts, and several others had lost their reason.

An English patrol and a French torpedo boat divided the survivors between them, some heading for Milo, others for Malta. I was among the latter, and we arrived here about 1 o'clock yesterday. Captain Vesco, who was in command of the _Provence II._; Lieutenant Besson, second in command; Colonel Duhalde, commanding the Third Colonial Regiment of Infantry, remained on the bridge until the very last second of the ship's life in the most noble spirit of self-sacrifice, giving with perfect calmness precise and effective orders for saving the passengers.

The gunners of the _Provence's_ stern gun, having loaded it when the torpedo struck, remained at their posts, trying to discover the hidden foe in order to repay him in his own coin.

Surgeon Navarre of the Third Colonial Regiment, being taken aboard a trawler nearly exhausted by his eighteen hours on a raft, refused to change his drenched clothing or to take any food until he had dressed the hurts of the wounded and looked after the sick. He was prostrated a long while after such superhuman labours.

And I must mention this other incident, which brings tears to my eyes:

Gauthier, Assistant Quartermaster of the _Provence_, having been taken on board a greatly overloaded raft, was hailed by a soldier asking for help; he jumped into the water to give him his place, saying: "A sailor's duty is to save the soldiers first of all."

He was picked up, twenty-one hours after the wreck, clinging to a plank.

I call attention also to the devotion and zeal--meriting our profound gratitude--of Lieutenant Sinclair Thompson, commanding the English patrol _Marguerite_, and of his officers and crew, by whose labours about 300 survivors were taken from the place of the wreck to Malta.

Pray pardon the form of this story, Monsieur le Président. I have written it hurriedly, with a bruised hand, and with a head still in a sad muddle. I wished, before my impending departure for Saloniki, to say to you with all my heart: "That is what these noble fellows did!"

BOKANOWSKI.

* * * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics were corrected.

Inconsistent hyphenation was made consisent.

Times normalized to A.M. and P.M.