Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 209, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 September 1918 — GOOD OLD “PEP” NEVER LEAVES YOUR UNCLE SAMUEL'S FIGHTER [ARTICLE]

GOOD OLD “PEP” NEVER LEAVES YOUR UNCLE SAMUEL'S FIGHTER

In the Battle Line or Lying Wounded in a Hospital His Chief Characteristic Is His Indomitable Spirit—ls There Is Yet an American Who Does Not Hate the Hun He Should Hear the Tales of the Heroes of Chateau-Thierry.

Paris. —The Indomitable and unconquerable spirit-of the soldiers from the United States is one of the outstanding characteristics that excite the admiration of all who come in conftact with them. They make the American proud of his nationality and arouse the envy of those who, by clricumstances over which they have no icontrol, are denied the privilege to be [one of them. If there is yet an American who' (does not hate the Hun, he or she (should have seen the first trainload of American wounded that arrived here from Chateau-Thlerry. As these heroes modestly related their experiences, one had a mingled feeling of worship for them and intense hatred for the blood-maddened beasts who are responsible for the awful agony which the world is now suffering. In a compartment with a number of (French wounded was a nlneteen-year-old boy from Chicago. He was all lalone and surrounded by men who could not speak his language. He was in the most terrific pain, but managed to keep down the slightest groan. Nothing could have drawn a whisper from him before his French comrades iln arms. A Red Cross doctor Qsked him if [there was anything he wanted. “Just a drink of water, please,” was the low answer. He got It, The doctor asked if there [was anything else he wanted. The boy wanted to be turned on his side. iWtth a machine-gun bullet through his leg and a wound that had scorched its way across his hips, to say nothing of an Injured arm, he was perfectly incapable of helping himself. The doctor turned him on his side and then discovered the lad had had nothing to eat for 32 hours. Unfortunately he was only one of manyjn ithe same fix. The Red Cross did its best and soon had what emergency [food it had in the hands of those who

were still able to use them. The more seriously Injured, of course, were the (first to be removed by the long line Of waiting ambulances. Indomitable Spirit Before the train pulled in the ambulances were drawn up and waiting. So Iwas a small crowd. As the first ambulance quit the station the crowd started to cheer. There was a doughboy on the front seat with the driver, one arm in a sling, the other stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. He waved the sandwich in acknowledgment, while a contented look came'over his / drawn and tired face. The crowd increased as the ambulances formed almost a continuous (train. Words of sympathy were heard on all sides not unmingled with tears las the flower of Young America that ihad marched forth so valiantly a few short months before was painstakingfly transferred to base hospitals. At the end of the procession came la cortege that the crowd grasped the 'meaning of in a moment. They were Ambulances, but their destination was the cemetery and not the hospital. The women wept openly and crossed themselves, while the hat of every •man in the crowd came off in a respectful salute to the dead. The sight was one to wring the heart, but the indomitable spirit of America bobbed up whenever a man able to talk above a gasp was found. Many of the wounds were from shrapnel. Where they were not really serious the possessors told the tale of What they had been through. It was five o’clock in the morning of July 15 before the platoon to" which Louis Cooke of Rayville, La., belonged •saw the Germans approaching. “Our officer just yelled, ‘Let’s get •’em, boys’’ and we started after them,” said Cook. “The Heinl'es were coming up on the south bank of the

Marne and there were -only eight of us to about sixteen of them, but we sure cleaned out that first batch. My pleasure ended right there, though, for a piece of shrapnel banged me In the left arm and It was back to the woods for me. But, believe ,rpe, my company did Its share In driving the Huns. Into the river.” Didn't Know When to Quit

If anyone wants-to know. why the Americans were at first driven back from the river bank, they are hereby referred to Lonnie Shelton of Burdine, Ky. Shelton’s unit alone took over 500 prisoners when the Americans returned to the counter-attack, and but for the fact that a number of them were knocked out, as Shelton was, they would have still been going. “They knocked us,'back at first by the most terrific barrage I ever saw turned loose, but we didn’t stay back long," declared he. “We got the order counter-attack, and the way we waded back into Mr. Boche was something to write home about. I’ve never seen such a bunch as we had. They advanced yelling like hell, bayonetted and shot down every Helnie that didn’t know enough to get out of the way. Those guys could never beat America in a thousand years, and tell ’em I said so." Kentucky had another man in that same scrap that didn't know when to quit, even, after a piece of shrapnel had cut a nasty gash in his right leg. He’s Arthur Baker of Doorway, “Kalntuckpe," and he had just gone into line with his company when the ball opened. The barrage got him, but didn’t put him out. A little later, when the Germans came over to see about it, Baker was still on the job, working his gun for all he was worth. When the Americans had to go back Baker was so exhausted he couldn’t retire. His comrades picked him up and carried him.

They Didn't Last Long. "Heinie” tried out one of his favorite stunts of dressing up some of his soldiers in French and American uniforms, according to Anton Zolnowski of 2848 South Turner avenue, Chicago. “We saw ten men on the edge of a little wood a little distance, away, eight of them were fn French uniform and two in American. We yelled to them to come over and join us. They advanced a few paces and then opened fire on us.” Zolnowski smiled rather unpleasantly as he patted a right arm that bears a machine-gun bullet. “They didn’t last long. We made one dash for them. Not one of ’em got away. They were Germans all right There was another group coming up. I got a private and then the officer ip charge sailed into me. I tried to shoot him with my rifle, but it was broken. I. got him all right, though.” ' The Chicagoan seemed inclined to end the conversation there. “How’d you get him?” I asked, after a little pause. “Just turned the butt end of my gun around and clubbed him over the head with it,” replied Zolnowski in 'the most matter-of-fact tone. When the. Americans came back at them it didn’t take long to cleap every German out of their territory, declared Elmer, Sturtz of Wellsburg, Pa. Before he got a Mauser hall in his right shoulder Sturtz had the extreme gopd fortune to see two pontoon bridges the enemy had thrown pcross the river destroyed by the accurate fire of the American artillery.

to Be Going. They were filled with Germans, too. Some of them were coming, but there were others who .seemed very content to be going. Two shells from American six-lnchers lit squarely over the

bridges. There was a terrific report followed by an Inferno. Both bridge* crumbled in the'haiddle. Both.were crowded beyond their limits. Bits of Germans came raining down for almost three minutes, according to the spectator, while from the rivers’ the wild cries of the injured and drowning made a picture Sturtz will always carry with him. For a few minutes the river was literally choked with bodies. The Germans were at last moving on Paris, but in a way they had -hardly reckoned. Between puffs of a cigarette, the first he’d had in a day, Frank Hogan of Galveston, Tex., confirmed Sturtz’s story of the wholesale drowning of the enemy. The Texan was working a Stoker, gun a hundred feet from the southern bank of the river when the first waves of field-green began to cross. “You can’t say enough for those artillery guys,” he said, as he tried to twist into as comfortable a position as a wounded thigh permits. “Ten minutes after the orders had been telephoned to the batteries they had a perfect range on ,that river. While we were pouring bullets Into the Heinles the guns got their numbers with both small and large shells. At the spot where we were stationed I reckon there must have been about 3.000 of the Fritzies got across the river. They didn’t all go back. In fact, I don’t think there were hardly any of that bunch that’ll go back to Germany. We captured over 1,500 ourselves and killed easily 500. The rest were trying to beat It back to the other side when our shells hit their bridges.” ... Some Sharpshooter.

A Pittsburgher, N. G. Rameno, who was Injured in the arm by a piece of shrapnel, says there’s one American sharpshooter that made a record anyone might be proud of during the first of the mlxup. While the German engineers were trying to throw their first pontoon bridges over be picked off twenty-eight of them with his rifle. I couldn’t get his name, but he already wears a sharpshooter’s medal. He deserves another. Lots of soldiers believe In “hunches.” James L. Paul of No. 730 Spruce street, Philadelphia, does, and it’s a fortunate thing for him that he played his. With a comrade Paul was in a dugout during a barrage. Shells were landing all around. Finally one blew in the entrance, so Paul decided their dugout was becoming a little too warm. He waited for a short lull In the terrific firing and then darted for another shelter. He had not gotten fifteen feet away from the dugout when a big one scored a direct hit on it. His companion was killed, but Paul escaped with a wound from a splinter that will keep him out of action for several weeks.