Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 203, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 August 1916 — Page 2

Coward the Regiment

by H. M. EGBERT

{Copyright. 1816, by W. G. Chapman.) A hero? I? Louis, whom you boys surnamed Louis the Debonair, because of my atmosphere of general well-be-ing? Listen, then, and I shall tell you the truth about my exploit. I am not ashamed to say that when General Joffre ordered me from my position as typewriter to the commissariat department to share in the perils of the trenches my first Impulse was to fly. I, a man of forty-seven, with a girth larger than I care to think about, and a family of seven, a beloved wife in Paris, weeping her eyes .out, should I then play the hero? No, gentlemen. It was my firm resolve, from the moment I was ordered to the front, that I would be taken prisoner. Better starve in a Boche prison camp than lie, a corpse, upon the plains of Champagne! A hero? I had less wish to be a hero than anything I know of. I must be taken prisoner. But how? My nerves were all unwrung by the terrific noise of the cannonades. The shells flew over us. Sometimes great craters were formed by the explosion of the hideous missiles which were called Jeansons. I trembled, I feared. I could not hide my cowardice. Nor did I wish to do so. I would have been branded a coward forever if only I could have been restored to my weeping Annette, and

Made Me Recoil in Terror.

my darling Jean, Pierre, Marie, Antoine, Louis, Philippe and Auguste. At last I summoned courage to go to my colonel. “My colonel,” I said, “I am useless here. I am a family man, and my nerves will not endure this strain. - When I must die, let it be of apoplexy or measles, not of a .Teanson. Send me to the rear in charge of the regimental commissariat supply."— The colonel was an older man than L He struck me In the stomach, causing a pain most acute. “We shall teach you, Louis,” he said. “Tonight you will go out on listening patrol!’’ I nearly swooned at the brutality of. his words. I knew what that portended. The listening post, between the lines, where the star rockets went up, disclosing all who were above the trenches, exposing them to those hideous shells. ... I fell upon my knees.

“Mercy, my colonel!” I exclaimed. "Have you no children?” "Fifteen hundred,” he replied sternly. I rose and stared at him in hopeless fear. Fifteen hundred children ! And yet he could face this inferno! “All the men of my regiment are my children, Louis,” he answered. “And you,” he added kindly, clapping his hand upon my shoulder, “are one of them. So we shall make you a brave child! Go!” I went with shaking knees. I knew that it meant certain death. But after a while an idea came to me; at first only a dim hope and then a happiness, finally an ecstacy! I woujd go and take advantage of the darkness to crawl away. I-would render up myself to the sausage-eaters! I would become a prisoner. We started out toward midnight My teeth chattered as I crawled through the mazes of barbed wire in the wake of the little lieutenant, accompanied by two other men. We all carried bombs. We had six apiece. If the pin were pulled out the thing would explode in fifteen seconds. Merciful heaven! Father of seven! And Annette weeping her eyes out for me in Paris! „ It was pitch dark, arnjl when the hideous rockets went up we flung ourselves flat upon the ground, and happily escaped detection. At last we halted in a traverse. It was twelve yards from the enemies’ lines. We could hear them talking among themselves. We listened. And then, as I lay there, looking for piy chunce to dart down the trench.

and yet not daring to, there happened the most terrible thing that I have ever known in my life. The German mine went off!. I had no time to be afraid. I felt my self rising, rising, amid a din of the Infernal regions, and I wondered whether I should travel as high as the moon. Up I went —and then I must have lost consciousness, for I opened my eyes to find myself lying In u huge crater, amid perfect silence. The lieutenant and my companions were nowhere to be seen. I lay in a pool of what I thought was iny blood. But after a while I discovered that it was only water. I was absolutely unharmed. My hopes w r ent up. Now I could surrender. I should become a prisoner until the war was over. Annette, Jean Pierre, Marie, Antoine* Louis, Philippe, Auguste would see me again. I listened. All about me I heard the Bodies talking In their guttural tongue. In front of me, behind me, and on each side of me were the enemy. To which, then, should I surrender?

It puzzled me. If I went right, those on the left might be indignant and fire on me. But I must certainly surrender to some party of them, for there was not a Frenchman left in thet trench which they had blown up. I crawled out of the crater, and my hand touched something round and smooth which made me recoil in terror. It was a skull, the grisly skull of a dead man? So I thought for a few moments. But no! It was a bomb —one of the bombs which we had brought with us. The pins not having been removed, they hud not been discharged when the mine went off, though tons of earth were flung all about us. I touched it more easily and theh its neighbor. Then a sort of curiosity overcame me, and I CQunted the bombs. There were just eighteen of them —my six, and the six of each of my companions, the brave fellows who now lay buried under the great heap of debris that formed the sides of the crater.

My blood began to rise. Assassins! I shook my fists at the Bodies. Did they stop to think what they had done before they massacred a brave lieutenant and two soldiers of France? The little lieutenant had looked like my own Jean. Perhaps he had a mother somewhere, waiting for his return. “Rendez-vous V shouted a harsh voice at my side. The invitation to surrender, spoken in an execrable intonation,: brought me back to myself. I started, and saw three Bodies with fixed bayonets leveled at me-. I heard a cry on my other side. I looked around. Six Boches stood there.! And they were coming up before me and behind me. I was trapped. 4 I dived into the crater, and as I did so the whole eighteen bombs rolled down after me like skulls. I trembled, I shook with fear. Then suddenly a hideous sentiment took possession of me. I, a Frenchman, the father of seven children, t» surrender to a pack of cowardly Boches? I saw red. Stooping, I gathered up a bomb, removed the pin, and hurled it with all my might in the faces of the nearest party. It exploded with a terrific crash, and the whole six took to flight. But on my other side the party of three were already topping the crater. I saw their bayonets gleaming, and I picked up another bomb and flung it at them. I laughed at the detonation. When the smoke cleared away nothing was seen.

I heard the shouts and groans of the wounded Boches, but they did not move my heart. I hurled bomb after bomb, before, behind me. I gathered up TheTeniainder and ran into the Boches' trench. I saw the frightened pack retreat, and I rushed after them, bombing them. With my right hand I hurled the deadly missiles, while with my left I withdrew the pins. In an incredibly short space of time I had cleared the trench. I paced it like a victorious lion. And then suddenly the realization of my folly came to me. I, who had wished to yield, had permanently alienated my friends the enemy. I became frantic. “I surrender! lam Knmarad!” I shouted. But there was none to answer me. I was alone, like Crusoe, in the hostile trench. I thought of Annette, of Jean, Pierre, Marie, Antoine, Louis,’ Philippe, Auguste. I sat down and hid my face in my hands and wept bitterly.

Suddenly the air above me hissed with bullets. I cowered in terror at the bottom of the trench. The battle had begun again. I heard an earthshaking tread. A company advanced at the double, with bayonets fixed. The foremost man leaped into the trench. I looked down. One bomb remained. I raised it to remove the pin. Then I saw that the blue uniforms were of our Frenchmen, and that the man with the sword raised to cut me dowp was the colonel. I stopped. I let the bomb fall. Thte tears were streaming down my cheeks. But the colonel took me in his arms and embraced me —yes, before all. “It is thou, Louis, who hast won this trench single-handed!” he critjd/ ’iocredujously. “I clo not know, my colonel,” I answered, shaking with terror. wish," I added, “now that I have been with the listening post, to return to the commissariat.” "No, Louis,” he answered. “The regiment has need of brave men like tbee in the fighting line.” Later they pinned the cross upon my breast. And L Louis, the pride of the regiment, know that I shall never see my family again. Coward I am, and unless I can manage to be taken prisoner I Shall die a dpg’s death in the trenches. My heart melts when I think of Annette, of Jean —

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

FORMER NEW YORKERS ON PACIFIC COAST

FIGHTING FOR CHAMPIONSHIP IN CALIFORNA.

Two former managers, of the New York Americans are having a battle out on the Pacific coast. They are Harry Wolverton and Frank Chance, Wolverton is the manager of the San Francisco club, and Chance is the leader of Los Angeles. Their teams are having a fight for the leadership of the league. Both are of the aggressive type and there should be some lively times out on the coast if the battle should c#me down to a Close finish between these teams.

GLEASON HAS SHARP TONGUE

Goes to Relief of White Sox Twirler When Manager Jennings Was Getting His Goat. “Kid” Gleason, formerly assistant manager and general factotum of the White Sox, is noted for the sharpness of his repartee on the ball field. Manager Jennings of the Detroit Tigers had occasion to feel the sting of Gleason’s tongue just before the veteran left the Chicago club. Ilughie, it must be remembered, has been involved in two. serious accidents, each of which nearly terminated his career. First he dived into t}ie swimming pool at Cornell when there was no water in it, breaking bones'innumerable and having to stay in bed for weeks while the doctors patched him up. Later he drove his automobile off a bridge near Scranton and hurt himself so badly that he . was in a hospital for a couple, of months. Gleason, of course, knew all about these two accidents and when the time came he reminded Jennings of them in a way more pointed than polite. The Detroit manager was coaching one afternoon and had taken occasion to make a number of extremely personal remarks to the Chicago pitcher. He plainly was “getting the slabman’s goat,” and Gleason was quick to come to the rescue. ! “Why, you freckle-faced ape,” he yelled to Hugliie. “You have a fine chance to be kidding anybody. You tried twice to commit suicide and your skull was so thick you couldn’t go through with it!” —The American Boy.

WHITTED PLAYS STAR GAME

Outfielder Covers Much More Ground Than Last Season—Has Been Big Help to Moran. George Whitted has played sterling ball for the Phils all season. He covers much more ground than he did last season because Moran does not shift him around. He has player first this year, but that was solely because Luderus was injured. Constant duty in

George Whitted.

left has given W T hitted the hand of the shop and he is a much better guardian of the pasture as a result. Whitted’s brilliant maneuvers have been a big help to Moran. He has won several games by his clever inside play. He has stolen home, worked the squeeze play at a critical juncture and belted out a home run just when it was needed. He won three games right in a row for Alexander by his brilliant performanoe|, .

BASEBALL NOTES

Bullet Joe Bush suddenly has lost his baffling curve. * * * /N> Ball players will grab rifles and go to war if General Funston puts the umps in front of them. * * * Habit is a bad thing. Now the poor old Reds are making a runaway race of it for last place. * * * St. Louis umpires would be safe from Mound City mobs if they used insect powder shooters. * * * Willie Mitchell, recently of the Indians, has promised to show himself a winner with the Tigers. * * * Fred Toney’s alleged crack about the Reds being an egg team may hatch out a brood of trouble, * * * Drugs have leaped from 100 to 600 per cent in value, yet you see a lot of players who are full of hop. * * * Wilbert Robinson believes he has one of the best utility outfielders in the major league in “Jimmy” Johnston. Derrill Pratt, second baseman of the St. Louis Browns, has swung into his old stride, batting and fielding in top form. ■” * *' * Baseball fans in Philadelphia are thinking of getting up a ninth place in the American league for C. Mack’s Athletics. * * * who opine that if Lee Fohl were in the boxing business he could make a champion out of Carl Morris. * * * John J. McGraw, manager of the Giants, must often be surprised at the views of John J. McGraw, journalist, on the great American pastime. * * * Evidently it doesn’t matter who does the piloting or what class of players makes up the team, the Reds remain the same old pennant winners in the spring. : . * * * Outfielder Jimmy Murray, who dropped from the American league to Class AA, then A and then B, is now playing in the Class D Central Texas league. • * * pig league magnates have added the letter “E” to the scoreboards to signify errors, and “H” to indicate hits. If “B” meant a boper, it would be a busy “B.” —* * — * — “You can’t have it,” said the national commission to the Brooklyn club, referring to $75,293.81 the Dodgers wanted from the Newark Internationals. N * * * There is an eight-club baseball league in England now. It is made up of teams from Canadian regiments and Americans living in London. No stops for tea. • * * There are many things worse than sitting on a jury. Sitting through a ball game, for instance, when the visitors are getting all the breaks and the best of the umpiring. * * * If the other Cincinnati pitcheps could win as regularly as “Fred” Toney, Herzog’s aggregation would be a first division proposition. * * Carroll, the Tufts college catcher taken bn by Connie Mack, will play no more ball this season.' He is suffering from an internal trpu-s< ble that will require a surgical operation.

CLEANLINESS OF LIFE

Waiter Johnson’s Only Vice it That of Chewing Gum. One of Explanations of Big Fellow's Remarkable Climb From Gem State Bushes to “Higher-Ups”—De-veloped in Idaho. “And his worst habit is to chew gum.” The Idaho fans were wont to say this of Walter Johnson, the wizard pitcher of the American league, after he had gone from the Gem state “bush” to the “higher-ups.” Briefly, it is one of the explanations of the big fellow’s remarkable climb and is a strong argument fftr the “form player” in baseball. „j Of course, hitting the pepsin is not a bad habit, and, other than winning games, it was, in Johnson’s day of baseball infancy, his only regular custom —perhaps still is—for we hear of the California youth doing things on the diamond that none save a man in perfect condition, could accomplish, and it is no secret that mingling with the big boys changed Johnson not a bit. Egotism will never get him. Walter Johnson is another achievement of the great West, where we do more than exist —we live, writes a Boise (Idaho) correspondent in the Detroit Free Press. What if the “phenom" was overlooked around Los Angeles—his own “diggin’s?” He developed in Idaho, and that’s some state, too, for developing, also for things that have their growth. It was there that Mr. Success brought out his ladder for Walter Johnson to climb. It was not of the ten or twelve-rung va-

Walter Johnson.

riety; it was of the extension sort, and it did not take long for the California lad to extend it to its limit. Lest we forget —it was Waltei Johnson who broke the world’s record for shutouts by pitching 72 innings without a score against him. In truth; it was in a sagebrush league, for if ever there was such it is in Idaho, where they make the native -bush serve even-to- the-length-of growing hair on bald heads. But it mitigates from the record not one whit, for anyone ‘ familiar with baseball kinks knows it would be just as jnucb a record if made in the big leagues. It is a rare combination that figures in the success of Walter Johnson, and it offers a strong argument for cleanliness of mind and body in sports. Johnson keeps in perfect physical condition, and his mind is one of those open books that any might read with profit. Always fair, he never “crabs” nor “lays down,” but gives his best at all times. Popular? Well, the word hardly is big enough to fit his case.

GRIFFITH HITS AT SPITBALL

Manager of Washington Team Says Delivery Is Not Natural and Is Cause of Errors. Clark Griffith is against the spitball. He is hoping for and predicting the day when it will be legislated out of baseball. Says he: “If I had my choice of the two 'evils, I’d pick the emery ball. The spitball isn’t any more of a natural delivery than the emery ball and it’s more offensive. The Spit on the ball causes a lot of errors when fielders make wild throws grabbing the ball at the slippery spot. It spoils clean fielding and therefore has a tendency to hurt the game.”

PLAYER ‘TURNED WRONG’ WAY

Fred Snodgrass Declared Out After Making Safe Hit—-Ambled Leisurely Toward Second. It’s been a long time sinae a player was called out for “turning wrong” after reaching first base, but that’s what happened to Fred Snodgrass in a game in the recent Boston-Philadel-phia series. Fred hit a single and ambled down to first, then leisurely walked off toward second, without returning to touch the base. The ball, returned from the outfield, was put on him atod the umpire said he was out, in spite of Boston protest.

Home Town Helps

GARDENS IN BACK YARDS Mistake Is General, According to Authority, of Starting Them Too Ambitiously. , Even the city dweller can cut expenses by utilizing small yards ft>ff raising vegetables, and the Garden Club of America has engaged experts to tell how it can be done. The information Is being embodied In a book for backyard farmers. The book was begun in the fall, when members of the club anticipated hard times and scarcity, of money for the working man, and it 'will be ready for publication and free distribution in a few weeks. “We plan for the average yard of about 25 by 10 feet,” said Mrs. J. Willis Martin, president of the club. “Our aim has been to state the principles of gardening as simply as possible, planning the needs of the average family of four through the entire summer.” Phlladelplha has the distinction of being the birthplace of the Garden Club of America, which embraces 22 clubs in other parts of the country, and Mrs. Martin is also a resident of that city. The mistake that Is made by nine out of ten amateur gardeners, however, is that of trying to do more than they are able to accomplish, and of endeavoring to grow too many things within the restricted bounds of an average suburban lot. It were well to bear in mind the fact that, after one has worked eight or nine hours in an office, one’s strength Is equal only to an hour or so of work in the garden. It should also be remembered that only about so many plants of any kind will grow and mature on a given area of garden ground. Instead of trying, therefore to grow half a dozen plants each of a score or more of vegetables, confine your efforts to those vegetables of which the family as a whole is most fond. Everybody, almost without exeception, likes some vegetables more than others, and when the list of favorites is compiled it frequently will be found to be remarkably restricted. Here is the tentative list, which may be modified to suit individual tastes: Sweet corn* an early and late variety or a single variety planted for succession; string beans, planted for all summer succession; peas, two or three plantings ten days apart; tomatoes of a long bearing variety or planted for succession; lima beans, either the bush variety, if the garden Is small, or the kind grown on poles, if more space is available; a small plot for lettuce, preferably the kind that form heads; another small bed of onions; two or three hills of cucumbers; and, If desired, a short double row of beets for early summer use.

TAX ON STREET ADVERTISING

How They Do Things In France to Make and Keep Their Cities Beautiful. The imposition of a tax on mural advertisements, which Mr. McKenna is reported to be considering, has produced satisfactory financial results for many years past in France, the London Chronicle states. Not a bill can be displayed on any boarding or in any window in that country without having affixed to it an inland revenue stamp costing at least a penny. Theatrical posters, cards announcing apartments to let, and bills offering rewards for recovery of lost dogs all come under the same law. On printed matter the stamps are usually attached before printing. Frequent inspection renders evasion difficult. In this connection our French neighbors put into operation, just over three years ago, another excellent idea which might well be adopted in this country, is the plan adopted to get rid of the hideous advertising boardings which then desecrated so many of the national beauty spots. A bill was brought in proposing a tax of $lO a square yard per annum on all boardings under six yards square, S2O a yard up to 10 yards, S4O up to 20, and $l5O on those above 20. If two separate advertisements appeared on the same boarding, the tax was doubled; if three, trebled, and so on. The bill was introduced solely on artistic grounds and was passed with thq enormous majority of 500 votes to 3.

Shady Lanes.

That the chief aim of man Is not destructiveness finds so few exceptions in these parlous times that any evidence to the contrary calls for mention. A comforting instance of this sort is contained in a brief news item from an exchange, thus: “On a leading roadway out of . this city , farmers for six miles have agreed to plant shade trees on both sides 60 feet apart. The same variety of tree will be used the entire distance.” This is a little message with an appeal that is vital. These public-spirited farmers have their counterparts in all directions from the shaded avenues that will result from this wholesome, sen&'iH.e, artistic and altruistic endeavor, already conceived, and, it l* fervently hoped, already on the way toward being made an accomplished tact. . : _ . . - - ~ 1