Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 283, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 December 1918 — NOT DRAMA BUT THE REAL THING [ARTICLE]

NOT DRAMA BUT THE REAL THING

Mons—The open warfare which was conducted by the allied forces in Flandefk over long stretches of inhabited territory along the northern battlefront produced strange situations which were a far reach from the trench fighting, which marked the greater part of the war. The correspondent was motoring along the highway leading to the recently freed city of Denain when a French officer beside the road asked 'for a ride. As soon as the car started he leaned out and began to inspect the surroundings eagerly. Occasionally he would wave to civilians and shopt greetings. Asked if he lived in the vicinity, the officer said that his home was in Denain, where four years ago he left his wife to join the colors. Just after his departure his first child, a daughter, was born. Then came the German occupation, cutting off his loved ones. Now he was going back after .these long years to his wife and the baby he had never seen. He was visibly wrought up to the highest pitch, as well he might be. It was quite possible he might find his family dead or gone and his home in ruins. '• Entering the city the officer directed the correspondent toward his home, through streets showing the cruel marks of the invaders’ hate. Turning into his street, the first house was in ' ruins. He gave a nervous start, but said nothing. A few doors farther on was 'his home, and the car stopped across the street from it The officer climbed out slowly and with an effort, his eyes fixed on the place. Afraid of Her Father. There were no signs of life. . The windows were -shuttered and on the door was a sign showing that German officers had been living there. Crossing the street,' the officer pulled the bell with shaking hand. No one answered. He backed away like a man in a trance and leafled against the car, trembling. Suddenly the door opened and an aged woman servant appeared in answer to the bell. She was leading by the hand a beautiful baby girl with a wealth of golden curls. The officer took one step toward the child and then halted. He was a stranger to his own flesh and blood. The child hid behind the skirts of the nurse, peering out in fright. Un*

doubtedly her mother had told h<*r .many times during the Boche occupation that men in uniform were bad and that she must avoid them. The horizon blue uniform of France meant nothing to this tot The hitlfbliml eyes of the old nurse had recognized her master, and she held out her hands to him, repeating, “Monsieur! Monsieur 1” in ecstasy. He crossed the road and grasped her hands, but the baby drew back stilt farther. A door opened at the end of a long hall and a comely young matron came through to see what was going on. When half way down, the hall she caught sight of her husband. She stopped, her hand flew to her breast, and she swayed for a second as though about *to fall. With a sobbing cry of joy she hurled herself into his arms.