Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 203, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 September 1917 — ALFRED THOMPSON GIVES GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF AIR RAID. [ARTICLE]

ALFRED THOMPSON GIVES GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF AIR RAID.

Passing through a two hours’ terrific bombardment from German aeroplanes was the thrilling experience of Alfred Thompson, son of Mr. and Mrs. Delos Thompson, of this city, recently, while stationed at a French hospital. For twp hours the Germans rained bombs down on the hospitals, filled with Ally and German wounded. Mr. Thompson left Rensselaer on the sixteenth day of last June for New York City, from where he embarked for France to take up his duties as an ambulance driver. Writing under date of August 21, to his parents, Alfred gives the details of his harrowing experience during the raid of the German planes. The letter gives one of the most vivid and graphic descriptions of an aeroplane raid that it has ever been our occasion to Coming from one whom we all know, the letter will prove of a great deal more interest to the reader than if it was to come from a staff correspondent of a big newspaper. The contents of the letter may be thoroughly relied upon and we feel that our readers will greatly appreciate the publication of the letter, which has been given us through the courtesy of Delos Thompson. The horrors of the war as pictured by Mr. Thompson will bejEound in the letter—but we will let the Rensselaer boy tell his own story: Tuesday, August 21.

Dear Dad: Yesterday was a big day, the biggest for me that I have had in France. We have been waiting for a call any hour for the past four weeks and yesterday afternoon we got it. We have been living in our cars, .you know, sleeping on stretchers with all pur baggage in the car. _ When the came we had to get everything out of our cars, the stretchers slung, see if everything was ship-shape, and be ready to leave in ten minutes. It was some hustle but we did it and were one of the first in the line ready to start. We were called to one of the triage hospitals, which are the hospitals to which the wounded are taken from the post de secours (first line hospital, to which the wounded are taken, preparatory to being picked up by the ambulance drivers) which are very close to the trenches. The hospital we went to was about eight or nine miles back of the front lines and we supposed we were to do evacuation work, that is, carry the blesses (the wounded) from there way back to a base hospital. We stopped once on our way and when we tried to crank the car again we couldn’t get any results at all. As a result, almost every car in the line passed us, and when we finally discovered the trouble and got started we were fifth from the last. We finally arrived at the hospital and lined up to receive our charges. It was pretty slow going and we had a long time to wait, so we got out and walked around. It was the closest to the front I had ever been and there were lots of interesting sights. There were several airplane fields there and the sky was filled with airplanes. Several times we could see the French shooting at Boche planes over us and every few minutes a plane would rise from the field and soar off. We, Dee and I, walked up to the hospital and the

first tent we looked into was jammed with Boche wounded. They were a sorry, gory sight. Men with no chins, one eye, one arm or leg, shot to pieces and covered with bloody rags. Their uniforms were torn and covered with mud and blood. It certainly was a ghastly sight. We walked on up to the rest of the buildings and looked in. Some were filled with Boche wounded, others with French, most of them just recently brought in with the rough dressings they receive at the post de secours. They all bore it well, though, and there was very little groaning or moaning. Then we walked up to where they were loading and discharging cars. The cars were coming in with loads of from three to five wounded, in a steady stream. It was my first real glimpse of the horror of the war and it xyas very pitiful. The cars of our section drove up and were loaded with five couches (lying woupded) each and moved off in pairs to make the drive to the base hospital, about 40 kilos (25

miles). By the time our turn came there were no more blesses to load so we waited. In the meantime we had seen two separate groups of German prisoners marched past. They had just been captured and seemed glad to be prisoners so they could get out of the trenches. There was an awful lot of them. We waited and waited for our loads, but nothing happened. Meanwhile all the other cars had gone, leaving only five. Finally about 8:30 in the evening, they asked us in and gave us some supper aqd tea. and wine in the .hospital. It certainly tasted good. After that we thought we would go, but. 4hey did not load us and we pulled out a couple of stretchers and some blankets and made a bed on the ground, as we thought we might be there all night. I was lying almost asleep when all of a sudden from the sky I heard the roar of an aeroplane motor, then a tremendous boom and felt the whole hospital buildings shake, then a great flash. Immediately the rockets began to fly and the guns to boom and several searchlights began piercing the sky in search of the Boche plane.

He had been high in the air, and had shut off his motor and~ coasted silently down to a very low level, probably two or three hundred yards, then dropped his bomb, turned on his motor and was off like a shot before the place was awake. The whole place was soon alive, the sky was filled with bursting shells, rockets, warning Roman candles and searchlights. I rushed to the building as soon as I could and crouched against the wall, as everyone else in the whole place did. We thought it was a pretty close shave, and thought probably it was a single Boche plane which had sneaked up trying to demolish the aviation camp, but it was mild to what was coming. We were all wide awake then and soon -’ we heard another plane above. The searchlights tried to find it, but didn’t seem to do any good and suddenly it swooped down, and there was a blinding flash, a tremendous roar, and again we sought cover by lying flat on our faces on the ground against a wall. The bomb threw stones and dirt all around us and as we looked up we saw it had struck one of the hospital buildings a hundred yards away. ■lt was an incendiary bomb and in half a minute the whole building, wooden of course, was a roaring mass of flames. I never saw fire envelop a building so quickly in my life. The blaze lit up the whole country for a mile or more and we and the hospital were plainly visible to the attacking planes. The fire they had started made a splendid target for the planes and they proceeded to make good use of it. There must have been a whole lot of planes. For a while all would be quiet and people started to resume their usual work, and we started out to watch the fire. Then we would hear, sometimes see, a plane in the air, the warning rockets “and guns would begin to pop, and we. would see the plane swoop down, a moment of deathly silence, then another terrific crash and again we would lie prone, while the debris, etc., fell all around us on the buildings. They kept that up for two hours at intervals of a few minutes, and we all felt that at last we were seeing some real war at first hand. Then we were called to line up our cars and receive our blesses, most of whom, if not all, had been hurt in the bombardment, and to evacuate them to another hospital, 15 miles away. We did so to the tune of exploding bombs. Just as our car was filled the cry went around that gas was coming from bombs dropped. We didn’t hesitate much in putting on our masks, and everyone in the place did likewise. The bombs were pretty bad but the cry of “gas” was the last straw, as it is fearful stuff, and I endured the terrible smell of the mask and the uncomfortable feeling of it with gladness and I was mighty glad we had them. After our car was loaded with its load of wrecked bodies we had to wait for the other four cars to load. It took a good deal of time and it was nervous work sitting in the car with the engine running, waiting either to go or be bombed. Finally the order came to move and we pulled out and passed the still flaming building, past a dead horse • that had been fearfully mangled, out on the road. We could still hear the planes above, and every now and then a terrific explosion, or a great flash of light according to whether the bomb was just explosive or incendiary as well. One I saw strike* a little ways off in a field and a great column of stones and dirt shot skyward. Finally we were off and it was with a sigh of relief that we saw the glow of the fire fade in the distance and as we breathed fresh air again without our masks. Every now and then we could see the flash of the incendiary bombs. They lighted up the road for us for a couple of miles or more. Of course we drove without lights and did not find it so very difficult either, although we had to drive very slowly. We finally arrived without further excitement at the hospital that was our destination and discharged our wounded. Most of the cars had received their wounded at the hospital we just came from during the bombardment. One of the cars had two dead men in it v hen they arrived, but ours were all alive, but —some had —terrifying holes — in them. After we had received our stretchers and blesse’ blankets bacx we proceeded back to our old camp and arrived about three a. m., tired and sleepy and no longer filled with any ideas of the glory of the war, after our looking at the men in the hospital, and having no longer the rather scornful idea of the effect of the air raids.

This morning we heard they dropped sojne forty bombs. Many of the* wounded in the hospital were burned to death, as they couldn’t get out because they couldn’t move and there was no time for the others to take them out. It was not over a minute at the most, after the bomb struck, that the whole sky was a mass of flames. Our American chef, who has been in the service many months and who has seen many bombardments by aeroplanes and artillery, was there and said it was one of the worst he had ever seen, as the bombs were much' worse* than- the heaviest shells, and there Were so many of them. He said before the whole section this boon that we stood it very well. It certainly was quite a baptism of fire, for the first time we have done any work, but I am mighty glad I

was there. Wouldn’t have missed it for anything. We may be here a month now and have no more work. On the other hand we may go out again tonight, but it is very, very unlikely that we would run into anything like that again very soon, if ever. Hope this letter doesn’t cause you any worry. If I thought it would I wouldn’t write it, but I figure I had better tell the whole truth than a mere part of it, and it is very improbable we shall be In such a position again. Must close. Lots of love to all. ALF.

P. S. Tell mother I received two letters from her this morning which I Was more than glad to get. They were dated July 31 and August 4. The latter made an unusually quick trip over. —o•— Accompanying Mr. Thompson’s letter was a field service bulletin, which contains a psalm from “The Sussex Patrol,” which is published below: The Ford is my car; I shall not want another. It maketh me lie down in wet places; It soileth my soul; It leadeth me into deep waters; 7 It leadeth me into paths of ridieule for i.s name’s sake; ,, — It prepareth for me a breakdown in the presence of mine enemies. Yes, though I run through the valleys, I am towed up hill; I fear great evil when it is with me. Its rods and its engines discomfort me; _ . • It anoiteth my face with oil; Its tank runneth over. Surely to goodness, if this thing follow me alk the days of my life, I shall dwell in the house of the insane forever.