Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 January 1916 — Page 3

“PRINCESS PATS” LAST STAND MADE IN ROLLING WAVES OF POISON GAS

End of Famnus Regimfint in Funie-Filled Trenches at Ypres, Told by Corporal William B. Kysh, One of the Survivors of the 1,126 Veteran Fighters Who Joined Jhe Organization in Canada—How “Slim” Perry Died.

Paris.—This is the story of the beginning and the end of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light infantry — “the finest fighting force the world has seen." It begins on a bright, brisk day a year ago last September, in Quebec, when the regiment, with every man wearing a previous service ribbon, swung on board a transport amid a babel of sound and riotous colors. It ends in a crescent shaped trench at Ypres, on the eighth day of last May, amid a green vapor of strangling poison and gray surge of German infantry, with bayonets fixed, writhing over the broken sand bag ramparts. There the men of “Pat’s Own” wrote their names into history and disbanded at the command of the greatest of all commanders —Death. Of 1,126 picked men who stood proudly in review before King George and Lord Kitchener at Salisbury Plains as they strode down the lines only 93 are uninjured. There’s still a regiment of "Princess Pat’s Own" In the trenches on the west front. But in place of the sturdy men garnered from the marts of the world are fresh faced youths, just from the scholastic halls of McGill university, in Canada. They’re upholding the traditions—so newly made —of the men who went out before them. Yesterday Corporal William B. Kysh of “Princess Pat’s Own” —that regiment which went to the front a little more than a year ago—told the story of its beginning and its end. He told ft in jerky snatches between quick Intakes of cigarette smoke, while a hand, scaly and maimed from shrapnel, stroked his yellow face. A Regiment of Veterans. “I’m sorry I can’t tell y’ more of this,” he apologized. "I never was much of a spieler at best —and now, I’m rotten. Nerves gone, y’ know — can’t eat, can't sleep.” Yet corporal Kysh was a seasoned soldier, as were all of his comrades, when he took the king’s shilling in Quebec and donned the British uniform. He was Sergt William Kysh of the Twenty-ninth United States volunteers in the Spanish-American war, and Corporal Kysh of the Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders at Ashanti. In between he has been a purser on board passenger steamships running to Europe and the far East. He was born in England, but he Is a naturalized American, as were so many of the men who died at Ypres or before Ypres was reached. “Princess Pat’s Own” left Quebec on September 17, 1914. After three weeks at Salisbury Plains the regiment was attached to the Eightieth brigade, making up part of the Twenty-seventh division, composed otherwise of British regulars just back from service In India. The transfer followed the review by the king and Lord Kitchener. The Britfield marshal, they say, as he passed down the line and saw the service ribbons across the coats of “Pat’s Own,” said, softly: “Now I know where all my old fighters are.”

Into the Trenches at Once. The first week In December sawTße regiment off to the front There was a march from Winchester to Southampton, and there the. troops embarked on board the Cardiganshire for Havre. Havre was reached in the darkness, and after one night’s stop the regiment marched to Bleiringhen, behind the firing line. All day long they dug reserve trenches. And then that night the word came to relieve Dickelbusch. All of these points are within a radius of twenty-five miles from Ypres—where the fiercest fighting on the western front was progressing. Twenty miles the regiment marched, arriving at Dickelbusch at night, footsore and weary. This was on December 18, and hardly had they messed when the command came to occupy the trenches. The French who had been holding them needed relief? So into the trenches the men crept, crawling along flat on their stomachs, when the star shells from the German lines made the heavens red; rising and scooting when welcome darkness rode down again. For 72 hours they icrouched in the trenches of Dickelbusch under a rain of shell and shrapnel fire, with pnly emergency rations to sustain them. This was their baptism of, fire.

“Back Into Hell at Hill 60." “Well, we left of the trenches after 72 hours and matched bach to WestOuter, where we rested for 48 hours; then back into hell again. For this time that was where we went—into trench C 10 on Hill 60. “After 48 hours back we crept to West-Outer again to spend bur Christmas there. We left some dead and some wounded behind. I guess it was 11 killed. Snipers and band grenades got the others. So we went back and forth, thinning the ranks a little each time, until- February 28. Then we made our fl rat charge. “Our artillery swelled the Germans for two days while we lay in the trenches waiting for the word. They answered back, of course, and once in a while one of dur fellows would go, witti an arm ofl or a head smashed in.

At four o’clock in the morning the word came to charge. We scrambled over the trench and ran toward the Germans, 60 yards away. They swept us with machine guns and bored us with hand grenades. Big “Jack Johnsons" screamed from behind the lines at us, and over our heads went back our own artillery’s answer. The Germans came up over the trenches to meet us, and we used the bayonet. We slipped and fell; rose and fell again, stabbing and cutting; there was no chance to shoot. oCold Steel Routs Germans. “Then the Germans gave way. They can’t eat cold steel. They were piled up in the trenches, dead and dying, so thick that it was untenable, and after a while we had to abandon the place we’d won, and go back to our own trench. “We left seven or eight men behind in the little strip of twisted mud between the trenches. And from C 10 for days afterward we watched those fellows lie there and change from dead men into things. I wake up these nights and see one of ’em. “Well, we charged the Germans again on March 4. We lost more men, and again had to abandon the trench we won. The dead were too thick and the stench was too terrible. That’s what is meant when they say the trenches are ‘untenable.’ In this charge Colonel Farquhar of our regiment was killed.

“We had to stay in C 10 for six days after this. We were shelled, shelled, shelled. Day and night they rained about us and behind us, cutting off relief. We lost 65 men killed and a number wounded. Then we got out and the King’s Royal Rifles relieved us. From then on until May 3 we went back and forth, in and out of trenches. We mined ’em and blew ’em up; we sniped a little and threw hand grenades. “And then we were ordered to Ypres. We marched into the trenches there without delay. “We went in in a rain of artillery Are and got caught in a vortex from our own artillery and the Germans’. An observer gave the range wrong to our artillery and we caught it. One hundred and twenty of our men went down before the range was righted, but we kept on and occupied the trench. The Germans were right across from us, about 200 yards away. We held a crescent-shaped trench, and on May 5 we routed the Germans, but we had to duck back, tor the fire was too heavy and their trench was useless for protection. “From then until May 8 the Germans shelled us. They poured tons of lead about us. No one could leave the trench; no one could stick his head put. Our nerves went dead from the concussions, and our eyes were glazed from the sights about us. The dead lay under our feet and the wounded crept back as best they could to where they could get first aid. __ First Attack by Polson Gas. “Early on the morning of May 8 the Germans charged. We knew they were coming, and we were waiting. They came over their trenches in quarter columns, a.solid, swaying mass of blue gray. They shouted and ran forward as we mowed them down like

BATTLE-SCARRED AVIATOR

Nagle Farson, who was wounded by a . splinter of a Russian shrapnel shell while flying over the czar’s tines during a recent reconnoissance, photographed od hi* return tp America recently.

’ THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

gras*. Our machine guns, four to ths section, jtist waved in a semicircle and waved back again. We fired our Lee-Enfield3 as fast as we could pump them, and no bullet was wasted. in piles in front of the trencheq, and the piles were always wriggling around as some of the injured underneath tried to creep out. A whole battalion of them were put out of the way before they drew back and formed for another charge, behind cover of their trenches. “And this time we saw poison gas for the first time. It was the second assault, about eight o’cloc l - in the morning. We could see that something was coming off, and then suddenly there spouted up a thick green cloud, that hid everything in front of us. The fellows under the German piles wriggled harder than ever and everybody in jur trench asked: 'Well, what’s cornin’ off anyhow?’ The wind was wrong for ’em, and the Germans went back, and there was quiet until ten o’clock.

“This time their gas came in. It rolled along the ground like a moving wall about eight feet high. Behind it we knew the Germans were coming, but we couldn’t see them, so we let fire through the cloud. The gas had holes blown in it and the force of the bullets swayed it a bit, but before we knew it the gas was rolling in the trenches. . _ /

The End of “Princess Pat’s Own.” “I heard men cursing at one end of the trench where the gas struck first, just as a shell buried me, and then I got the gas myself. I got it light, for I was half buried, but the fellows about me screamed and rolled up as if they were burned, cursing and praying. It caught you by the throat and burned its way into your lungs; then you couldn’t breathe out, and you burst or slobbered. I crept back on my stomach, for I had 4 * bit of shrapnel in my stomach and a bullet in my leg, just as I saw the Germans, dropping ever the sand bags. The fellows who could stand knifed ’em with bayonets or bit end fought them. I saw four of my pals —right fellows they were—lying almost over each other, all of them with gas in them. “ ‘Oh, Christ, Kysh! ’ one ’em called, ‘get me a drink. Get me’ — and a German drove a bayonet clear through hi 3 tboat and lungs before he could finish it. And then the same German knifed the other three boys. “That was the end of ‘Princess Pat’s Own.’ Long before the Germans came the last time there weren’t sixteep men of the sixteen platoons of thq, regiment who could defend themselves. I fired 170 rounds myself from my Lee-Enfield, and she was so hot I couldn’t hold her. I crept back and somebody put me on a Maltese cot and got me to Dickelbusch. I spent Six months in a hospital at Beechbury Park and then came over to Quebec, where I got my discharge." And Corporal Kysh, still moving the hand that was raked with shrapnel over his yellow face, lighted another cigarette.

"There’s lots I could tell you,” he said after a minute. “But I’m not much good at talking; then my nerves are rotten. I tried to go to work today, but I had to call it on'. I just went down to the French line and told ’em I’d have to lay off a bit until I could get eased up some.” How “Slim” Perry Died. And then he told the story of how “Slim” Perry died. “Slim” was the younger son of a well-knowr English family, who had lived several years in New York. At the start of the war he hurried up to Quebec and enlisted. “He was a sidekick of mine. Finest lad ever. Always out for the eats whenever the bully beef palled. He could pick up a chicken or fresh meat any old day? We were side by side at Ypres, and he just turned to me and grinned after the first attack of Germans had failed. “I got to see ’em run, Kysh,” he said, and peeked over. A bit of shell got him right across the head and took it off to the mouth. He fell against me and I laid him down. When I got out of the hospital I went down to see his mother and sister; His mother hadn’t heard from him for a long time and asked me where he was. Well, I had to tell her. Rotten, eh?

"Oh, they were a fine bunch of soldiers and gentlemen, from old ‘Mickey’ Welsh, who’d seen service in Egypt in 'B2, to Perry.' ‘Mickey’ was resting in a little scooped-out holo at the bottom of a trench, and be looked up at me. "‘Corporal, ‘ he says, ‘we thought we’d seen war. What muckers we were! When I get out of this I’m going to lead a quiet life —’ and he got up and got a bullet through the eye—took the eye clean out.” Corporal Kysh is still wearing his service shoes; big, broad brogans of oiled leather. / “Pretty fins kicks,” he observed, and lighted another cigarette. “Well, I guess I’ll eat some more eggs; can’t have any solids, but how I’d like a steak, eh?” - ■

Red Heads Good Citizens.

Evansville, Ind.—Neal Kerney, coroner, has added to the weight of testimony as to the gopd citizenship of red-headed persons. None of them is in jail here, or In the divorce eoittto. and the coroner says he does not recall that any red-headed person has ever committed suicide here.

Stray Bullet Kills Deer.

Iron Mountain, Mich.— A stray bub let has killed a deer instead of a artSL jnhn Fry went hunting with a small rifle. He shot at a stump for prac tlce. Out darted a deer and them toil dead with a bullet in his heart.

HOUSTON Uncle Sam's Big Farmer

‘TTHE SECRETARY OF AGRICUL- ] TURE MAKES DREAMS COME TRUE. HE IS A SCIENTIST WHO SCORNS GUESSWORK METHODS AND BELIEVES THAT AMERICAN FARMS OF THE FUTURE WILL BE THIS WORLD’S GARDEN SPOTS. COPYRIGHT.BY-WESTERN NEWSPAPER

By EDWARD B. CLARK.

T T OUSTON is a man who is enough to have the trut -h t°ld about him.” m *rw These were the words of a friend, a confidant and an admirer of David 7 Franklin Houston, secretary of agriculture in the cabinet of Woodrow Wilson. The secretary’s friend had no thought of small traits in the character of Mr. Houston. What he meant was that certain things which have been dwelt upon by critics of the temperament and the methods of work of Mr. Houston should be set forth so that the proper light might fall upon them and thus lay bare the facts to eye and mind. David Franklin has been criticized. Why? Well,’the answer isn’t hard. He is an idealist who believes that his idealism can be realized only after the proof has been adduced that it really is idealism. Consequently Mr. Houston is not a dreamer of dreams whose fabrics are baseless. He is of Scotch blood and is hard headed, and as a result a good many of the visionaries of the country who see glory gilding the castles which they rear in the air, cannot understand why the secretary of agriculture does not instantly see the domes and minarets of their fancy’s building “burning with the splendor of noonday.” The department of agriculture, since Mr. Houston took hold of it, has broadened the field of its endeavors. Many things have been done. Some of them are things which the dreamers of the years have urged should be done. Everything bearing a trace of the imprint of worthiness that has been suggested has been subjected to the test of critical analysis. Some of the dreamers have been disappointed because this thing or that thing has not been done, but they may 'Enow that the test has been applied and that the proof of lasting worthiness has been lacking.

There seems to be a sort of general impression that Secretary Houston is a cold man. The presumption of his coldness comes unquestionably from the fact that he is so intensely scientific and analytical. The visionaries go to him bubbling over with their dreams of what can be done to bring the millennium of their desires to farm and field. They are so convinced that the vision they have seen from the mountain tops is real that they ebunt the man who listens but declines instant and exuberant acceptance of the truth of their dreams, as a man who is cold and unresponsive. Little do they know, at any rate for a long time, that some of these dream recitals are remembered and studied and that if they bear up under the study plans are laid to make them a reality. _ Coldness is an exterior thing. A thermos bottle may be cold to the touch and yet have plenty of heat inside. The man who said that Secre-

CONDENSATIONS

Frwer peopte under twenty and more people over forty-live are now employed hi various industries than was tjtee caea saw yaws ape. • tesaporetpro IM 111 the victim of a lung 4wittr* Mk gfceel l«ure ever tee** in a Mr* Mi*. . at a milklag -|M eont -of crosiu. Ma tMB. MM flat «*• MMr MH ML . ■

tary Houston was big enough to have the truth told about him also said that the secretary is a volcano, a seemingly slumbering one, perhaps, but one which has within it the potentialities which one usually ascribes to Vesuvius and the other peaks of fire. Men who know the secretary cannot understand why he is called cold. The reason is simply that he is cold to the representation of things whose worth cannot be proved. There is another view of Secretary Houston which is taken by some men who do not get next to him, or perhaps better, into him. Generally speaking, a man who has no sense of humor is an impossible man. Some persons think that the secretary of agriculture lacks appreciation of real humor. While Mr. Houston is of Scotch descent, Sydney Smith’s joke about the necessity of a surgical operation before you can get a joke into a Scotchman’s skull has no application to the case of David F. Houston. He is fonder of good stories and fonder of telling them than perhaps any other man in the president’s cabinet. It is said of him, however, that, true to his temperament, he analyzes a story to find out first whether it has humor’s real ingredients before he will accept it as one worth retelling. In this way the secretary avoids the fate of the man who tells stories at which other people laugh only because they feel that they must do so in order to be complimentary to the raconteur. To a Washington correspondent who has been watching things fairly closely in the agricultural department, because of an innate liking for things agricultural, the chief thing to stand out prominently since Mr. Houston laid hand on authority is the “tremendous amplification” of works which were in little more than suggestive form when one administration of the department was succeeded by another. Secretary Houston found a lot of good things in tentative form in the agricultural department when he first entered office. He submltted the tentative projects of his predecessor to his usual analysis and those which he found good he adopted as soon as the study of them was complete. The growth of the activities of the agricultural department of the United States since Mr. Houston has taken hold is of the kind usually called phenomenal. There is no attempt on the part of the secretary or any of his subordinates to take away from preceding administrations the credit for initiative. What was found to be good has been accepted as good, and what is more, has been put into operation. Beyond this the department has initiated and carried into action many plans;of its own which at one time were thought to be impossible of success. It is ii) taking the thing said to be impossible, in testing it and in either proving or disproving its worth, that* the present secretary excels. Is it said that one is praising David

An Italian scientist has developed a method of identification of individuals by means of veins in their hands. Peat, compressed and formed into sheets, is replacing cork in Germany as an insulating material against heat Sylvester Long-Lance, who was appotated to West Point, is the first fullblooded Cherokee Indian who has been so honored. ’ , _ Only 33 1-3 per cent out of every 100 men that apply for enlistment in the United States nav?

F. Houston overmuch? Well, the proof or the disproof of the validity of the praise is to be found everywhere through the farming regions of the United States. Nobody knows better than the present-day farmer what Mr. Houston has tried to do and . has done. Every housewife on the farm will make answer to the question as to whether praise has been wrongly placed or not. The records are written over every field in the United States. Their pages easily are turned and the print is large. The secretary of agriculture is a blunt man when bluntness is an essential to imparting a lesson. He does not believe in mollifying men with soft words when hard words are necessary. Politicians do not get any great amount of satisfaction out of him when they are seeking their own ends. Here is a story in point that was written by Arthur W. Page. “A member of congress from the middle West asked the secretary to get rid of the department agent who was at work in his district. The secretary refused. But that did not end the matter. A local attack hampered the work. The secretary investigated the situation, satisfied himself that the agent was not at fault, and then wrote to the member of congress that the work could not be done properly while this attack was going on, and that under the circumstances the department? would withdraw from the district altogether. “He mailed a copy of this letter to the governor of the state and to the rest of the congressional delegates from that state. They immediately' notified him that it would not be necessary to withdraw the agent The state legislature went even further, and passed a unanimous resolution indorsing the agricultural department’s work in the state.” Now it must be understood that when some members of congress cannot do what they like in the way of influencing the heads of the government departments they can resort, if they want to, to the petty revenge of opposing necessary appropriations for enlarging the good work of the department whose secretary has incensed them. Secretary Houston never seems to have worried much about the appropriation matter as it might be affected by the action of men who “knewwhat they wanted and couldn’t get it” The truth is that the motives of men usually are made plain when it corneal to antagonizing good work, and most men are afraid to have their motives turned to the sun. The result is that courageous secretaries of departments in Washington usually have no trouble because they have dared to stand out against purely 1 political importunities. David Franklin Houston was abso-j lately unknown in political circles when President Wilson called him to Washington, He was known, however,} to educators and to scientific men gen? erally all over the United States.

POSTSCRIPTS

Japan has found, valuable deposits of coal on an island in Nagasaki harbor and close to. its Sasebo naval station. - - * - ; -■ •-- been invented with which a person can remove as much of the fruit as desired. The germ of smallpox, discovered by a German scientist, is bo small that it passes through the meet minute filh terg, ’ , - - •