Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 7, Indianapolis, Marion County, 19 March 1936 — Page 25

MARCH 19,1936

Today’s Short Story FOR VALOR By P. C. Wren

HELEN D'ANGERFIELD instilled into her only child, Eustace, the fear of God and the terror of herself. Infinitely sooner would he, as a boy, have faced the wrath of Heaven and the pains of Hell than the anger of his mother and the agonies of her punishments, her biting contempt and cutting horse-whip.

Her husband, Gen. Sir Eustace d'Angerfleld, had gone to his rest. He needed a rest after 20 years of Helen. It was not so much that K*len was a very cruel woman, sadistic or savage, as that she hc.d a terribly high standard—for other people, particularly her own people, whose successes and failures reflected credit or discredit upon herself. mum HEIR husband, for example, was a failure by her high standards. After all she had done for him — and said to him. With youi.<? Eustace it was even worse. For, at the age of 25, the very age at which she had begun the training of his father, Eustace D’Angerfleld was a convicted coward. Helen D’Anger field’s son was a coward. In spite of all that she had done to harden him, to toughen him, to make a man of him. Had she ever coddled him, given way to him, pandered to him, as some fool mothers do? Never! When, as a nervous child, he had begged to be allowed to have a light in his bedroom, she had drawn heavy curtains to shut out even moonlight and starlight. When he had implored that at least the bedroom door might be left open, she had locked it; and when he had screamed insanely, she had whipped him—almost insanely. When the time came for him to learn to swim, Helen D'Angerfleld said to her brother, who was staying at Dangerfteld Court: “Take young Eustace down to the river with you when you bathe tomorrow, Dick, and chuck him in. he’ll soon learn to swim when he knows it’s that or drown.” But somehow worthless Eustace did not. He really seemed to think, when his hearty uncle kindly explained that the water was deep and it was a case of sink or swim, that on the whole it was much less trouble to sink. tt u TO die and go before the throne of grace as a preliminary of being hurled into everlasting hell for the sinful and cowardly knave that he was seemed preferable to going before his mother, while she lay breakfasting in bed, as a preliminary to being verbally scourged for his cowardice in the cold early morning water, until she sent for her thin whale-bone riding switch and bade him undress and lie across the bed . . . A cowardly little hound. And so they suspected, if they did not actually discover at Sandhurst. For his indomitable mother was determined that -she would break her degenerate son of his loathsome and degrading vice, cure him at any cost, even that of making a soldier of a poltroon. It did not occur to Helen D’Angerfield, clever as she was, that perhaps the bravest of the brave (as they called that heroic soldier, Marshal Ney) is he who, while really frightened, shows a courageous front; he who, while terrified, contrives to appear terrific; he who, while cold with fear, makes others think he is cool with heroism. att m Nevertheless, they did not think much of him in his regiment, iment. It almost seemed as though he took too much care of himself at football, as though he was almost afraid of getting hurt at polo; positively as though he were £ bit nervous at times. It wasn’t talked about much; but the colonel did ask his second-in-command whether he thought that old Tashy and Anger fields’ boys had as much, well, guts as the old man undoubtedly had? And the second-in-command had replied that, since the colonel put it like that, he was bound to say that he did not. *? AND with a rifle he was simply awful! The only way he could get a “bull” was by not knowing whether the rifle was loaded or not. Fact, sergeant instructor would stand behind him and hand him the rifle, always telling him it was unloaded. Then he’d get a “bull” ! every time. Invaluable in any shooting-team. Best shot in the regiment, in fact. But let him load the rifle himself, or know that it was loaded, and he couldn’t keep it still long enough to take aim! Queer fellow. Too much imagination and nerves. Yes—got so many nerves that he'd got no nerve. Several things he had noticed. Riding. He wouldn't jump if he could avoid it. Didn’t really like hunting or taking part in a point-to-point. Thus the major . . . And then came the war: and to Lieut: Eustace D'Angerfleld, the result of his mother’s training. a a UNDER the first Intensive bombardment, his nerves went to pieces. Thrusting his fingers into i his ears, he ran around in circles, J screaming. He did not run away: he simply ran about, scrambled out \ cfc-the trench and ran about in the ! open, howling like an injured dog, ' like a dog that has been run over and can not get up. mum THE court-martial was merciful, for the sake of the fine old general, his father, and that splendid sportswoman nis mother, who car-! ried on so bravely during the war ! and hunted the hounds herself. Besides, he hadn't really run away —only run around like a decapitated hen. If he hadn’t screamed, you might almost have called it foolhardy courage, getting out of the trench and running about while the Hun was putting down a halt, and the machine-guns and snipers were j so busy , . . So he was Just dismissed with ignomy, instead of being shot for cowardice. And they found him out again, in the French Foreign Legion. At least. Sergt. Franz Zimmerman 1 pid. Found him out for a poorspirited, moping, herring-gutted ferweinehund of an Englishman. a • m A ND how Sergt. Franz ZimmerArajn hated the English, those

| stood between the Fatherland and the sun; and who, in 1914, had led the Germans on to thmk they would not interfere, and then, when the campaign was irrevocably launched, had declared war. Had waited till the Germans’ hands were full and then jumped on their backs . . . Well might the I French call England Perflde Albion! And here was an Englishman; and what was more, an English exI officer, if Sergt. Franz Zimmerman knew anything at all; and what was most—a coward. Yes—he had seen the dog hanging back; lying flat on his face behind a rock, and pretending to be too breathless to get up, when the battalion was advancing under fire. The dog was a shirker, a slacker, a twister, a coward—and an Englishman. mum HE had done his best to make the swine’s life a hell for him, and now he’d make his death a hell for him, too. He’d run him in for refusing to advance under fire; for hiding; hanging back; deserting, almost because bullets were flying pretty thickly, and the Riffians about to charge. Yes, when the rest of the company had to be held back, this cur had to be kicked on. And then wouldn’t keep up. Pretended he was too exhausted after the dash up the mountain-side. Well, Corporals Kleintz and Haffuer w-ould support their Sergeant's .-.ccusation, and a drumhead court-martial would shoot the dog like a dog. BUB OOD God .. . ! Look .. . ! The ammunition—mules were off, stampeding hell-for-leather, eight j of them, laden with the precious ammunition on which all their master’s lives depended; on whp'h the success of this particular operation depended; on which, therefore, the success of the whole big battle, and even the campaign depended. And galloping straight for the enemy’s lines, too. Not only robbing their masters, but immeasurably enriching their enemies. Col. Bethune struck his forehead and swore, and the oath was the last word he uttered, for a bullet took him clean through the forehead that he had just dramatically smiled. He fell to the ground; his horse reared, and Legionnaire Eustace D’Angerfleld went mad again. He had had enough. BUB HE could bear this being'shot at, and waiting to be slashed with swords and knives, no longer. . , . He had reached the end of his tether again—and he must go, flee, escape, get away from these howling devils of Riffians and from Sevgt. Zimmerman, a worse devil. Springing to his feet, he dropped his rifle, snatched the rein of the plunging charger, thrust his left foot into the stirrup, swung himself into the saddle, and, with his heavy boots kicked the excited horse which instantly leaped into a gallop and raced off headlong hell-for-leather in pursuit of the galloping mules; a bullet stung its flank. And the mad Eustace went madder. Yelling, he cheered the horse on. Snatching off his kepi, the lunatic beat the maddened horse with it. St tt tt SWIFTLY nearing the long line of trenches, nullahs, and sangerg, held by the great Riffian harka, he overtook the mules, waved his kepi at them, yelled wildly to them, and brought them around in a wide sweeping curve across the front of the Moorish army. He knew not what he did; save that he was letting off steam, throwing off repression, expressing himself in action of his own choice; that he was free, alive, and—unafraid. Yes, unafraid. He did not give a damn for the whole Riffian army, nor the whole French army—nor even for Sergt. Franz Zimmerman. No! . . . Whoops! . . , Cheers . . . Hurrahs and hurrahs ... He was having a hell of a ride—and if they hit him, there'd be a hell of a crash —and a damn good job, too! mum SHOOT, you devils—and see if you can hit D'Angerfleld, the Coward and his troupe of performing mules! . . . The Great Field Marsal sat’ cool, quiet and unemotional on his white charger, his field glasses to his eyes. “By God,” he said softly. “If that fellow lives I'll give him a commission on the field. For valor. And the Medaille Militarie from my own coat—as a souvenir. It is extremely difficult to hit a man galloping across your front at 300 yards and over. Le Legionnaire Eustace D’Angerfleld was not hit, nor was any member of his troupe. The ride ended tamely in the middle of the French groupe mobile; and the mules with their precious burden were back behind the firing line 10 or 15 minutes after they had burst through it in their wild stampede. tt M B e"jpHAT night the great marshal A sent for the legionnaire who, in the extreme peril of his life, had shown such swift appreciation of the situation, such initiative, such coolness, courage and skill. He gave him a kiss cm either cheek, his own Medaille Militaire (the French V. C. and D. S. C. combined), and promotion to the rank of second lieutenant. Next day Sous-Lieut. Eustace D’Angerfleld sent for Sergt. Franz Zimmerman and told him what he though of him—to wit—that he was a very brave, competent and zealous non-commissioned officer, but apt to be a little severe with recruits and young scldiers. And that he was going to keep his eye upon him—in the hope of being able to further his advancement. And as the sergeant saluted, opened and closed dumb lips, and backed away from his superior of- 1 fleer, that gentlen an fingered his decoration. “For valor,” said medal. ‘‘For cowardice,” sailed the colder who had found himself, .(THE ANOj ,i

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

fl SEE WE<S WEARING WF OM , TUE MAJOR Ift SOMETHING ABSOLUTELY T COULDN'T BE BOTMET2ED j§ JOT, T || I NEW IN CRAVATS, UNDER ) WITH A MERE $lO Jf VOU A H\S COLLAR WlN<3£. HE J HERITAGE, WHEN, ANY * MUST HAVE CLAIMED ) DAY NCW, HE'LL COME INTO JL A LEFT By THAT j the BILUON-DOLLAR S ? US * y i jH| ILATIVE LEGACY LEFT BY HIS THE jTi WEALTHY UNCLE 3UUUS,

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

BfTS A PRETTY STATE THET LAW IS IDO LAX, fjj I ' !HATS WAS SUSPECTED OF im IHis ■WW-THEY J} M ! BOfS LIKE WCW( WHAT BREAKING THAT SHOULD CLAMP DCW/N V® f I & W £££?££ ON HIM! THERE ARE A /ff kg HE OUGHT X) BE > ELMIRA LOT OF PEOPLE IN THIS 7 ' i Jiif 1 PUT AWAY/ / SAYS , WINDOW, IVE FOR- BURG WHO SHOULD / Q L.T,; SUS BICOEH .W ALVIM i

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

H/then maglew will reauJv CUT LOOSE. THERE'LL BE I THE BIGGEST CRIME WAVE IN HISTORY. HOLDUPS AND SHOOTIN'S BY THE HUNDREDS ■ycnj cops'll Be pN th.

ALLEY OOP

YOU MUGS THOUGHT YOU'D PUT AW RIGHT, NOW, YOU SMART SAPS -?, -/O OMEOVER OM SOMEBODY,DIDM'TCHA? GO GIT YER SLAB-SIDED DIMOSAUR -WENT AM HID,WHEN! YOUR OL' AWAY FROM THAT CAVE-AM' M; DINOSAUR GOT TH' GRAND BE QUICk ABOUT IT / JT* / •

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

COME YULTTE [ (Si, AVA- SE.RiOOGNF.GS .]A TOO HEKKi , WITH IMMEDIATELY I\N YOU REMA.V OONT INTEND TO GO THE A\D OF YOUR FACT , THERE (S A THRU VO\TH TH\6 MAO_SCHBYE __JThI GUARD ,TO FORCE SH\R .VOFATiNG AT OF'TOURS,DO YOU ? AH ME TO RETURN THE P\ESR TH\<b f I DO TO GRANOAUA? UERV M\NOTE r i ' —. .

THE TARZAN TWINS

I r I I ,

Intamo was surprised to find the boys had not died of his poison. But now he would redeem that failure. His war-club swooped upward above Doc’s head! With a cry Dick jumped to his feet and sprang between the savage witchdoctor and his intended victim.

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THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

With his spear raised in both hands, he sought to break the force of that wicked blow. The knobkerrie crashed upon the strong spear shaft and glanced to one side. But Intamo, with a powerful sweep of his arm, brushed the lad aside and swung his club again! . . .

OUT OUR WAY,

—By Ahem

E /GIVE ME THAT WHIP! \ ] I HE'S NOT USED TO \ \ BEING WHACKED LIKE \ that / NOW ,YOU GO J N AND CATCM WIMf

m .a iTn

. . . Meanwhile, the plight of the mighty Tarzan was less grave. The mad elephant Gudah stood surveying him and his ape allies, and Tarzan knew the demoniac beast was preparing for a new attack. Perhaps he himself would be the next to die by Gudah’s wild fury!

79 UC £ U5 'X HLJM - 1 Y bY THE WAV, I KNOW A \ WCTTTA fI7TJ?ic U Ar, ?. E [' L^.^ L f kVS BALL /BETTER- k.G!RL WHO COLLECTS ODD]CARE?TAKE WiTW US,OR. PI CP 9 MAKE A \ BOTTLES. MIND IF I HAVE/ALL VA WANT ~ _ J SEE YOU / FORGIT—SEND

r BUG EGGS TO HIM, AM' TH' (ye H*/ NEVER 1 ( (AWRIGHT, DIM MY-COME GRAMD WIZEG ,TOO/ LI STEW, AW' LYOU MIND; VAWAY FROM THERE, /sssP"! ALLEY-I'LL TELL Y'WHAT.TO THEM) YOU DO jgL y'BIG LIZARD - frffiKy. \ DO/ YOU GO AW'JUS' PRETEMD, WHAT) AS I BID. |jJ\C'MOW,y’HEARff ■pm < 1 SAY,T'TRY TGIT OL' > s PROMISE XfJ *5 anv/ j —CiHi.’y away/ —^^^^l v VI TANARUS, M, REG. U. s. PAT .OFF. J

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

As the apes crouched to receive the attack, a shrill trumpeting resounded in the distance. Tarzan turned to see another giant elephant emerging from the jungle! Was this beast an ally of the mad Gudah, rushing across the Vale of Death to assure him quick victory?

-COMIC FAGS

—By Williams

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Hamlin

—By Martin