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One afternoon I was on liberty in a certain city in France and conceived the idea of spending two hours in the Palais de Cristal, a vaudeville house. Now, in view of the unceremonious way one gains entrance to a theatre in America, I did not think an extensive knowledge of the French language was essential. I expected simply to purchase what was designated on the posters as "orchestre billet," walk in, be relieved of my ticket, and have an usher point out my seat .

I learned that French methods differ vastly from American. Unsuspectingly, I walked up to the ticket window, which was presided over by a mademoiselle who, it developed later, was hard of hearing. I laid down a five-franc note and said, "Un orchestre, seel voo play."

The girl looked puzzled for a moment, and then inquired: "Bee-ay?"

"No, fini beer," I said. "I wish a ticket."

Her next question was "Promenay?"

"Certainment," I told her. "Ce soir; maintenant ticket, orchestre."

"Parquet?" she inquired.

"No, not in the park; in the theatre," I answered. Finally she took the five-franc note and gave me a green slip of paper and about a pound of clackers.

I proceeded toward the door, where I was stopped by a uniformed old gentleman who touchingly implored me to give him my ticket. I complied, and waited a few minutes for the return of my stub.

The old gentleman was taken with a fit of absentmindedness, however, and did not even remember me when I tried to refresh his memory in regard to it. He performed the fourth movement of the hula-hula with his shoulders, and muttered, "Je ne comprendre pas."

I passed on through the foyer, only to be stopped by another gentleman, who demanded my ticket. I tried impress upon him that the ticket had already been disposed of, but he continued firm in the conviction that I had a ticket concealed about me.

Presently another Frenchman stepped out from the door of a secret passage nearby, had a slight attack of delirium tremens, and said: "I spik a leettle off ze Englis; perhaps can I you assist, n'est ce pas?"

"Yes, sir, you speak considerably off," I assur[e] him, and then stated my case. I had grown desperate, and then offered him ten francs for the best seat in the house.

He conducted me down a series of dark hallways to a window marked "Supplementaire," and there exchanged several francs for a slip of paper, also marked "Supplementaire." Armed with this, I walked right down to the front of the theatre, and showed my ticket triumphantly to an usher. He promptly referred me to the usher I had just passed, who relayed me to the next one back, and so on, until I was directed to a seat in the extreme lower left-hand corner of the building. With a sigh of utter we[ak]ness I sank down, and remained until the end of the third act before I could revive enough to get to my feet and pass out—a sadder but wiser man.

—Sgt. W. F. Cotton, Co. F, Second Supply Train.



Wherever the boys of the Second Division go, the entertainment bureau, in charge of Senior Chaplain Lee Owens, is right on their heels. In Dierdorf, June 17, "Tricks and Tunes," a clever "Y" show, was presented before an enthusiastic soldier audience and scored a big hit. It was a complete surprise to the men, as they did not anticipate any entertainment at such an advanced post under existing conditions.

While the German population looked on in wonder, two of the ladies, one of whom was attired as a cow-girl, advertised the show through the principal streets of the town. The performance which followed was replete with beaucoup catchy songs and pranks.

Henry Marcus, in charge of the troupe, manipulated cards and cracked some jokes. The big feature was furnished by Misses Clara Howard and Hazel Moran, with songs and wild western lasso throwing. John Miller was on the job in some good acrobatic maneuvers, while Gene Harrington entertained in a juvenile act with baby songs.


We see men when brushing their teeth put a big gob of toothpaste on their brush and jerk it back and forth across their front teeth as if they were swabbing the deck of an ocean liner, and they think they are doing a good job of cleaning their teeth, and doing it with the greatest possible speed.

If he would start the brush at the gums and brush to the ends of the teeth, and use his tooth-brush much as if it were a toothpick with a brush on the end of it, he would do a better job and do it quicker by several minutes, quicker because of the fact that he accomplished what he has started out to accomplish, he has cleaned the teeth.

That serves as an example for other things that we may be doing. The appearance of hustling and scurrying around at a great speed is generally pretty good evidence that most of the work that is to be done is being overlooked, or is being improperly done for the sake of putting up a good appearance, an appearance of great speed. The truly fast worker is the one who is centering his whole atention [sic] upon the work itself, and who has no worry about impressing others of his great abilities.

He is willing to let the results show for themselves, and does not go out of his way to convince others that he is speedy (at the expense of the work he is doing). Real speed stands out by the results attained, and not so much by appearance only. If you want to get things done, apply your mind and efforts to the work itself, not to the impression you are making on other people.    —York Spur.


When Private King has appointed orderly to the C. O., during our last tour of guard, he reported in the following manner: "Sir, Colonel King reports the commanding officer as orderly."

2 July, 1919.
From: The Chief of Staff, Third Army.
To: The Commanding General, 2nd Division.
Subject: Appreciation of Services of the 2nd Division.

As your magnificent Division is about to leave his command, it is with a sense of gratitude for its splendid achievements while in the American Expeditionary Forces that the Army Commander expresses to you and to your gallant officers and men his appreciation of your services.

After occupying a defensive sector between VERDUN and ST. MIHIEL, you were placed in the line of battle and met, with stubborn resistance, the onslaughts of the enemy hordes near CHATEAU-THIERRY. Your action at BELLEAU WOODS and your attack upon and capture of VAUX must ever remain brilliant exploits in our military history.

At SOISSONS, side by side with a veteran French Division, you proved to our Allies the fighting value of the Army of the United States, and at ST. MIHIEL, in the first great American offensive, your prowess in attack was irresistible.

When, in October, 1918, the Allied High Command desired to reinforce the French Army by American troops of great offensive worth, by real "shock troops," you were loaned to General Gouraud's IV French Army, and delivered your famous assault on BLANC MONT ridge, releasing from German menace the historic city of RHEIMS.

In the closing phase of the MEUSE-ARGONNE operation, certainly no troops contributed more to the enemy's destruction than your Division. After taking LANDRES-et-ST. GEORGES, BAYONVILLE-et-CHENNERY, and the BOIS-de-la-FOILE, you pierced the BOIS-de-la-BELVAL, and by skillful night fighting, and marching, you cleared the enemy from the left bank of the MEUSE, and forced a crossing of the river.

Your brilliant exploits in battle are paralleled by the splendid example of soldierly bearing and discipline set by your officers and men while a part of the Army of Occupation. That spirit and dash which carried your men through the enemy's defenses still predominated when the Army was recently concentrated, preparatory to a further advance into unoccupied Germany.

Officers and soldiers of the Second Division, your achievements and sacrifices have earned for you and for your fallen comrades the praise and gratitude of our nation.

By command of Lieutenant General LIGGETT:

Chief of Staff.


Saturday, June 7, 1919, was a momentous day in the history of Company C, Ninth Infantry, stationed in the small outpost town of Puderbach. In fact, the day was two-fold in its importance.

First of all, it was pay day for the company, and any man man who has soldiered even for one month, knows how vastly important pay day is to the American soldier.

Last, but not least, it was the day set aside for a Second Division Association membership rally, the results proving highly satisfactory to those who engineered the scheme, approximately 125 applications being secured, which brings the total membership of the company in the association to about 200.

There are 245 men in the organization, with 35 of the number absent for various reasons. This leaves a balance of ten who have not signed up, which does not signify that they won't.

The men of Company C have demonstrated by their earnest response to the call for applicants that they will support the association to the extreme limit They believe in it and in the principles on which it was constructed. Not only will the association be a means of preserving the spirit of the division, so gallantly displayed in all its glorious engagements, but it will be the prime factor in maintaining liaison with the pals of "over there" and provide a means, through the conventions, of meeting those pals and talking over again the experiences gained "in the good old days when hiking, hard tack, bully beef and Huns were the chief delicacies on the menu of operations."

The Second Division Assoociation is and will be a great thing, a big proposition, and Company C's chief characteristic is to instantly recognize an opportunity and promptly take possession of it.

As a side issue, some few financially embarrassed persons are asking the question of whether or not the two events staged in one day was the work of fate or just a little strategic move on the part of the energetic company commander, Capt. Gustave B. Appleman.


The shades of Sampson and Bismarck viewed the terrestrial struggle intently, and when the final crash came, the Iron Prince turned to the strong man and said: "How can you account for this unlooked-for ending?" Sampson laughed. "Why did you not take warning from my biographers? You permitted women barbers in Germany."


And now the question arises, was it not a hand grenade David threw at Goliath?

Ehrenbreitstein, Headquarters of the Seventeenh Field Artillery

Every man who participated in the reduction of the St. Mihiel Salient, will recall with little effort the morning of September 12, 1918, when the First American Army effaced forever from the map the bulge in the line, which had stood as a thorn in the side of France for four years. The days of mud and rain proceeding, the mighty barrage, the attack, the victory all stand as convincing proof of the fighting qualities of the American soldier.

Corp. Thomas D. Saunders of Company A, Second Engineers, a Cheyenne Indian, better known as "Chief" by all his comrades, was in this fight, detailed with several teams of wire cutters to accompany the infantry in the attack, and cut lanes througn the enemy wire defenses for the infantry to pass through.

There was, however, very little for these wire cutters to do as the barrage had pretty effectively destroyed the whole system of defense. Aware of the fact that rifles would be more effective than wire cutters now, the engineers grabbed their rifles and went with the first wave.

In the rapid auvance some elements of the Second Division became separated from their commands. One of these groups of wnich Corporal Saunders was a member, was before the little town of Jaulny about five kilometers north of Thiacourt, far in aavance of the first wave.

The detail halted about fifty yards west of the wagon road leading into Jaulny. it was, while waiting for other troops to come up, that one of the party saw six German soldiers running along the road to Jaulny.

Proceeding over the railroad track the little party entered the town by the station. Singly, and in pairs, they began to search the houses. Corporal Saunders entered the basement of the church where he captured a German lieutenant, a chaplin, and six wounded, which were sent back under guard.

His blood up now and knowing that the town concealed several more, Corporal Saunders continued up the street thoroughly searching every house. At the far end of the street he came upon a large cellar, containing several French civilians. A Frenchman here tendered him a bottle of Cognac, the invigorating contents of which stimulated him to further efforts.

While engaged in conversation with the Frenchman, Corporal Saunders noticed a German cap move by the window in the far end of the cellar. Instanly alert now, he lighted a candle, and ascertained that the cellar was jammed with German soldiers. Calling to Corporal Wilkerson of Company B, Second Engineers, who was outside, for assistance, they lined the Germans up and marched them out of town.

Arriving at the outer edge of town, some German machine guns opened up on the detail, but ceased firing immediately when the prisoners were placed between the guns and the captors.

Considering the fact that Corporal Saunders and Corporal Wilkerson were practically alone in the town and succeeded in capturing sixty-three of the enemy right from under their noses, it is an exploit that few have had the experience of living through. It may be stated here that Jaulny was not occupied until the next morning, when the Marines cleaned it out. Corporal Saunders and Corporal Wilkerson were eacn given tne D. S. C. for this act. The Indian had gone over and come back.

—Sgt. Irvin B. Gaard,
Company A, Second Engineers.



Back in the old U. S. A., in the village of Remsen, Iowa, a community—nay, a wnole state—is proud of the exploits of a native son in the A. E. F.

This son is Pvt. Fred Kramer, Ninety-seventh Company, Sixth Marines, tne champion auto-rifle shot of tne A. E. F. He doesn't like publicity, but we will give him a few lines anyway.

Young Kramer enlisted immediately after America entered the war. He had a hard time of it in the "boot" camp, having to undergo a serious operation. He refused a discharge offered him because of this operation, and after a long siege in the hospital, he completed his "boot" training the latter part of August, 1917. From there he was sent to Quantico, Va., and put in the Ninety-seventh Company on August 31, having remained with that company all through the war.

When volunteers for the "suicide squad" were called for, Kramer stepped forth. He was made first gunner on a Lewis machine gun, the type then used by the infantry. In practice firing he was as good as the best. "Possibles" were common in his shooting.

He came to France with his organization in October, 1917, and all Lewis guns were turned over to other departments. In January, 1918, however, he was issued a Chautchaut, the well known French terror.

Kramer was with the division on all of its fronts, and always had his Chautchaut. In two battles he was the only man of his squad left to "tell the tale."

He received a wound in the Champagne offensive, but got back to his company for the last days in the Argonne. The Brownings were making their debut then, and Kramer was given one.

He has never used a Browning in actual combat, but his experience with other automatics was a great help. His Browning practice consisted on a few days practice firing while keeping the "Watch on the Rhine." Other competitors for the title—perhaps not all, had weeks of training in army schools, but not so for Kramer. But it was ever said, "You can't keep a good man down," and so we may say in ending: Pvt. Fred Kramer now wears a medal, the first of its kind in the entire world, and one which no other man is entitled to wear, and that medal is for the champion auto-rifle shot of the A. E. F.


And when the kaiser thinks of the Indian Division, he denounces the Italians because Columbus discovered America and the Indians.


Company B, Second Engineers, had finished its bridge across the Meuse River on the night of November 10, 1918, and volunteers were called for to guard it. Six men volunteered. Sergeant Cowles, Corporal Marcell and Corporal Conover chose the enemy side, and Corporals Catlin and Yensen and Private DeFrancesco the other. The company left for camp, and as they crossed the railroad a few hundred yards away, another volunteer guard was left as runners Here five men stepped out—Sergeant Bennett, Corporals Larson and Beumer, and Privates Koranda and Mornhinweg.

Sergeant Cowles and his comrades proceeded to cross the bridge, and lust as they reached their post a piece of shell wounded Corporal Conover. He was assisted bark across the bridge by Corporal Marcell and from there to the first aid station, which wa located across the railroad, by Private DeFrancesco

At midnight some of the Fifth Marines crossed the bridge and reported that all was going well. Private DeFrancesco returned, and as we stood guard, the water in the Meuse literally boiled from the bursting shells, while the land was turned into a sea of flame and bursting shrapnel.

We were lying flat on the ground when a large shell exploded 15 feet away. It tore off an arm and broke one leg of Private DeFrancesco. It threw Corporal Yensen and myself several feet, but luck was with us neither of us being hurt, although we both were slightly stunned. We bound up our comrade and carried him back to the first aid station, returning through a hell of flying steel.

The Eighty-ninth Division came to the railroad and asked for a guide to B Company's bridge. Private Mornhinweg stepped up, and the major of the 342nd Machine Gun Battalion followed him through that rain of death to the head of B Company's bridge.

As the Eighty-ninth was passing the railway tracks a shell burst in the line, and the guard suffered. Corporal Beumer and Private Koranda were killed. Sergeant Bennett and Corporal Larson were badly wounded, and I was thrown into some bushes, which saved me from a hard fall.

The maior, having orders, relieved the guard which was left on the other side of the bridge, and so it was as the grey streaks of dawn were seen in the east the fragment of the last guard was relieved.

—Cpl, Ray Callin, Co. B, Second Engineers.


"With all the varieties," remarked the wit, "it is a wonder the Germans did not try laughing gas." "They did," replied the Indian. "Their intelligence officer wrote, 'The Second Division requires only proper training to make them serious adversaries'."


It was on an unusually mild afternoon in the early days of February, 1918, that the British steamship Tuscania, with a convoy of troopships and destroyers totalling thirteen, swung into the North Channel.

After thirteen days of imprisonment in the cramped quarters of the old liner, the passengers—all of them American soldiers, were fervently thankful when the gray, cloudy outline of the mountains of Scotland were sighted in the distance. Presently, on the opposite side, could be discerned the hazier, lower-lying hills that marked the shores of the Emerald Isle. That evening's mess was partaken of in a holiday spirit. An atmosphere of anticipation had taken the place of the vague foreboding that had lately existed.

About half the men had finished mess, and were scattered about the boat. Many had strolled up to the main deck and stood in little groups, watching the gleam from the lighthouses through the fast-thickening dusk, when "BANG!"—and we knew that a Hun torpedo had found its mark.

We knew it, even before we heard the muffled explosion; knew from the way the big ship reared into the air, lurched suddenly to one side, and then settled slowly into the black water. And darkness—pitch, black, oppressing darkness.

Except for one breathless, confused instant, there was practically no confusion. The soldiers found the places that had been assigned to them during the daily boat drills. Those who had been detailed to attend the lifeboats found themselves in a disheartening predicament. On the starboard side, above where the torpedo had struck, they found what had been an orderly arrangement of lifeboats swung on davits, was now reduced to a mass of wreckage and tangled ropes. On the port side, the problem was scarcely less difficult, for, owing to the fearful list to the starboard, it was almost impossible to swing the heavy boats out over the side. After a great deal of toil and anxiety, however, several boats were lowered and swung out into the waves.

By this time, the auxiliary lighting system was working, flares were lighted, rockets were being sent up. All this illumination seemed to the Yanks on board to present too easy a target for another torpedo.

Here and there a soldier lost his head and leaped overboard, only to lose his life. Some of the overloaded lifeboats sank before they were any distance from the ship.

A destroyer swung up to the port side and took off a number of passengers. Without any warning, it pulled away, and dozens of poor fellows who were in the act of sliding down the ropes, dropped into the water and were drowned or crushed to death between the two boats. Then ensued a nerve-racking period of uncertainty to the five hundred or more men still remaining. All the lifeboats were gone, and the ship was sinking faster and faster. Then out of the darkness crept another destroyer, and we were saved.

—Sgt. W. L. Cotton, Co. F, 2nd Supply Train

The goat at Relay X that furnished the officers and men in the place with milk. She was milked several times a day, and managed to survive the constant shell fire, though she rated a wound stripe. She stood at the mouth of a wine cellar, and ran down the stairs whenever she heard a shell approaching.

"Relay X," was at Chateau Thierry.


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It was a sad looking group, of marines that fell out, when the regimental awkward squads assembled in the courtyard of the castle.
One of the newly-made corporals insisted that the marines "count off" from left to right, but Sergeant Kuran (in charge) finally convinced him that he was mistaken. After giving the commands, "squads right," -"squads left," "as you were," "right by squads," and "column left," the sergeant g'ot the boys started down the hill, the first lap on their ten kilometer hike.
The detail returned just before noon, and there were beaucoup blisters and sore shoulders.
' The Sixth Marine Band gave another concert last Sunday in the park just back of the castle. They had a very large audience, made up of marines, doughboys, engineers, madchens, fraus, and herrs. Miss Burr served the boys cold lemonade, which was appreciated by all who indulged. Between selections the crowd was furnished amusement by some of the newly-made corporals stationed at the schloss.
Joe Elwood and Joe Kuran are claiming the tennis
championship of. Arnfels Castle now.
Sgt. "Mac" Pope, late of the "Territory of Tennes-
see," has received his permanent warrant as sergeant
in the regimental signal platoon.
—Cpl. F. L. Renton.
The body of old Chief Rain-in-the-Face turned over . in its grave. "I see no reason why my memory should be insulted by naming the overseas cap after me," he muttered, "unless it is because it is useful to keep the wig warm."
YE05, 100 cHEAP1 I
WE e-t-r Olean TO. POes THAT PENETRATE- YOve eoffeeEre SAM
Al on( mcpar/D
The fourth of July, 1918, dawned on the marines in the line northwest of Lucy-le-Bocage, France, much the same as the three preceding days had come —a chilly, misty gray dawn after a sleepless night. with the usual generous ration of high-explosive and gas, monkey-meat and French war bread, and an anxious half-hour of waiting for Heinie to attack, Finally the sun rose above the horizon, dispelling our doubts and driving the chill from our spines. Indeed. the day promised to be very disappointing, when about noon the hero of our tale arrived at the battalion P. C. He was an old, gray-haired lieutenant colonel of marines, who was supposed to be in a hospital in Paris.
He inquired if we were celebrating, and was informed that, on the contrary, we were mourning the loss of our canned heat, which had come to grief by way of an Austrian "88." As the colonel never missed an opportunity to celebrate—declared that he was A. W. 0. L. from the hospital now for that pur-pose—he insisted on starting something.
The intelligence officer had information of a Boche outpost just outside of Torcy, and a raiding party was organized forthwith. They left our P. C. at dark with the colonel in command and over a kilometer to go. The next we saw of them was when a sentry challenged, "Who's there?" and was answered in stentorian tones with "Lieutenant Colonel --- and two Boche prisoners." Then there followed an assembly in the dark outside the major's dugout which would have delighted a Boche observer to have seen.
Everyone not on duty hovered around to hear the
colonel's tale, which he commenced characteristically by shouting: "Well, major, didn't I say I'd be back at eleven with prisoners? hat time have you?"
"Eleven five, sir."
"Your watch is fast, sir. Yep, only got two prisoners, but killed two more—got shoulder straps off of them. Might have got more, but the damned Boche run, and seeing as I hadn't lost any men yet, I---."
About this time the colonel lit a match and proceeded to light one of his famous black cigars. Can you imagine it? An open woods just in back of the front line, a night as black as a stack of black cats. nearly fifty men in a bunch and Heinie in the habit of sniping with 77's at a lone marine. AND HE LIT A MATCH!
It flared up bravely for a moment, like "someone with a candle illuminating doom," when some sergeant barked: "Put out that light, you -- —fool," and someone did.
All was quiet for, a moment, .and then the colonel says: "Major, you've some damned fine sentries around here, Looks like you'd invite me inside where I can smoke."
Meanwhile we all scurried for our holes to await that inevitable strafing, and to wonder what sort of celebration they were having in Paris, where a few of our lucky pals had gone to parade.
—"MIKE"—Fifth Marines.
The keeper showed the visitor a rather crowded wing of the institution. "This is the harmless ward," he said. "These people have attended lectures by returned soldiers and read newspaper accounts and are trying to figure out who really did win the war."
Capt. J. R. Minter, Asst. Editor
Pvt. H. L. Johnson, Circulation Mgr.
Cpl. J. G. Minard, Sporting Editor
Pvt. L. N. Keller
Pvt. J. W. Caudle, Business Mgr
Pvt. R. C. Mather, Foreman
Pvt. A. C. Diekmeyer
Pvt. V. H. Burlingame
Cpl. Max L. Morton
Capt. Walter G. Long, Editor
Pvt. H. H. Watson, Art Editor
Cpl. Walter Borg, Collector
Cpl. Frank Swearingen
Pvt. W. Jenkins
A nation can not hide its characteristics beneath a veneer of civilization if it is barbarous at heart. Observers are bound to see through the sham, the surface indications, and discover the true people underneath. It has been that way in Germany.
For quite a time the Americans were puzzled by certain things they noticed in this country. They could not understand this, or that, or the other thing. Now they know about where the Germans stand in their heart of hearts, and why.
For instance, we have been told a nation's soul is expressed in it's architecture. Yet the cathedral at Cologne is a chaste bit of church constuction that expresses the highest ideals. It soars aloft toward heaven in the most sublime manner. "Surely," we say, "such an edifice must have been built by a people inspired by the noblest religious and-civic idealism."
Then we became puzzled, because we know the Germans were not that sort of people. The truth illuminates, however. The great cathedral at `Cologne is an outright copy of the French Gothic cathedrals. It is in reality French, and not German at all.
Then, walking through German city streets, we notice bizarre house fronts. Instead of straight lines in the architecture we notice curves, and queer shapes to cornices, and peculiarly shaped lintels over door ways, and windows. This is rococo, a bizarre sort of architectural effect. The ",baroque," as copied in some American "world's fair" styles of architecture, such as seen at some of the earlier expositions, is also noticed, in fact, seems to have become a favorite mode of architecture for German homes and buildings.
But again the German has copied from Italy and France. This architecture does not reveal the German soul at all. The Hotel Nassau at Weisbaden is- a good example of the baroque style. Another baroque example is the Festhalle at Coblenz. The Kurhaus at Weisbaden is classic, copied from the Roman, with its dome, its columnar facade, and its covered columnar approaches upon either side. It is in fact an imitation of the ancient Roman "thermaye" or public bath, such as was the "baths of Diocletian" at
the "Eternal City." . itot
Still we have not struck the note that gives the dominant chacteristic of the German character. Where does it begin to reveal itself unconsciously, then.
It reveals itself in the Denkmal, or Kaiser Wilhelm I monument at Coblenz. It reveals itself in the group of statuary before the Festhalle at that city. It reveals itself in a certain business building in Cologne. It is a style that is the embodiment of brute force. It is the gorilla of the architectural world.
Take the Denkmal first. It is a monumental piece of architecture, tremendous in size, and occupying a commanding position at the junction of the Rhine and Moselle. Examine it closely, however, and observe the absence of any grace, any delicacy of feeling. It is the very embodiment of force. And what other nation upon earth would take the serpent, the age-old symbol of treachery, to adorn one of its proudest monuments. Yet this is exactly what the Germans have done. The entwined serpents form the most prominent decoration upon the pedestal.
Consider the group of statuary befbre the Festhalle. This, briefly, is a monumental work, with a woman standing in the center, a female figure reclining on one side and a male figure reclining upon the other. It typifies but one thing,- coarse, loathsome force, the force of a gorilla, not of a Ulysses. The arms and legs are misshapen, and the necks are huge. The faces lack anything but brutish emotions, and the whole thing frankly stands for Germany revealed.
Pow a Rs
Well, well! those dusky warriors from Nantes, the bolsheviks who cleaned us up the first game they played here went down in a double defeat on July 4. Two southpaws, Brought and Buck, did the trick.
The first game went to the Indians by a score of 3 to 0, it happened thusly; in the first, after Ashworth and Jenkins had been retired—and by the way, Jenkins is the real name of Chief Myers—McMurray singled, McGlade drew a pass, Gresset doubled scoring McMurray but McGlade was put out at the plate. In the fifth, Ashworth singled, Jenkins sacrificed him to second, McMurray went out, third to first but McGlade tripled, scoring Ashworth and coming home himself on a passed ball.
The pitcher then filled the bases by passing Gresset, Fouts and Anderman, but Woodman went out second to first. Nantes tried to break into the run column several times; in the very first, Lyons opened the game with a triple, Longware drew a pass, Malarcher went out >bort to first, both runners advancing, Clark hit to short who nabbed Lyons at the plate and White fouled
to first. The score:
2nd Div. . . 1 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 x-3 8 0
Nantes . . . . 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0-0 4 0
Summary: Struck out—Brought 1, Lyons 3. Bases on balls—Brought 2, Lyons 3, Lee 4. Hit by pitcher—by Lyons, Brought. Two-base hits—Gressett, Ashworth, Fouts. Three-base hits—Lyons, McGlade, Brought. Sacrifice hits—Moore, Jenkins. Double play—Lyons, Longware to White. Left on bases—Second Division 9, Nantes 5. Umpire Friel.
Before a fine crowd but lowering skies, the Second Division and Nantes clashed on July 3. Or was it a clash? It looked more like a collision. Whether Nantes won or the Indians gave them the game, you can flip a coin and take your choice. Certainly the home team was away off form. The game was thrown away in the first inning. Mattern passed Lyons, who promptly stole second; then he passed Longware. Malarcher attempted a sacrifice, but McMurray threw wild to first, and two runners scored, while the batter reached the third sack. The other run was scored in the eighth, when Lyons connected with the first ball pitched for a home run.
The Indians scored in the second when Fouts doubled, Kelly popped to the pitcher, Woodman was safe on an error, Fouts advancing. Mattern went out, pitcher to first, Fouts scoring on the play. Ashworth was thrown out at first by the pitcher. Another tally was added in the fifth, when Ashworth tripled, Jenkins fanned and McMurray went out on a squeeze play, third to first, Ashworth scoring.
In the seventh, with one down, the Indians filled the bags, but failed to score. Myers singled, McMurray bunted safe and McGlade walked. Gressett forced Myers at the plate and Fouts flied to left. In the eighth the Indians again filled the pillows with none down, and failed to score. Kibler walked, Woodman and Mattern each bunted safely. Kibler was caught off third and run down, third to catcher. Ashworth forced Woodman .at third and Jenkins fanned.
With all the errors and misplays, the score should have been much larger. The one scintillating play of the game was Jenkins' fine stop of Clark's hard drive in the eighth, getting the runner at first. The score:
R. H. F.
Second Division 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 0-2 9 4
Nantes 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0=3 4 5
Summary: Struck out—Mattern 8, Desmukes 3. Bases on balls—Mattern 2, Desmukes 3. Two-base . hits—Fouts 2. Three-base hit—Ashworth. Home run —Lyons. Hit by pitcher—Woodman, Malarcher. Stolen bases—McGlade, Lyons, Moore. Sacrifice hit—McMurray. Left on bases—Second 11, Nantes 6.
Threatening clouds did not prevent a large attendance at the game on June 30, at Heddesdorf, and the Indiatis, encouraged by their comrades, put over an 8 to 4 victory ageinst the league champs.
The six errors Were equally divided and figured largely in the scoring. Fagen went the full route for the Indians, while LeMans used two pitchers. Deuben lasted two innings, during which the home team gathered six runs, a lead which the visitors never overcame.
Debus got a home run in the sixth with none on, while McGlade tripled in the first with two on the pillows. McGlade also got three singles and batted a
perfect score. The score by innings: R. H. E.
Second Division 3 3 0 0 1 0 0 1 x-8 10 3
LeMans 0 0 0 1 1 1 0 0 1-4 6 3
Summary: Struck out—Fagen 3, Traux 4. Bases on balls—Fagen 3, Deuben 1, Traux 2. Three-base hit—McGlade. Home run—Debus. Stolen bases—Kibler, Woodman, O'Hara, Debus. Double plays—McMurray to Fouts; Marriott to Debus. Sacfifk.e hits —Woodman, Gressett. Sacrifice flies — Gressett, Gross. Left on bases—Second 5,. LeMans 6.
THE INDIAN Page Eleven
One of the snappiest games of baseball ever played on the divisional diamond took place on Sunday, June 29, when LeMans, champions of the league, defeated the Indians 3 to 0. It was a fast game, with the visitors getting all he breaks. Brought held the visitors scoreless for the first six frames. In this inning he gave Debus, the first batter up, a base on balls. Mar-riot sacrificed, Dean popped to first, Anderson singled, scoring Debus. Knapp tripled, scoring Anderson, but was out at the plate while trying to stretch the hit to a homer.
.Again in the ninth Brought walked the first batter, Aaron. Debus flied to the catcher, Marriott sacrificed, and Dean singled, scoring Aaron.
Owing to troop movements and misunderstanding, few knew of the game. Consequently the attendance was small, but what it lacked in numbers it made up
in enthusiasm. The score: R. H. E.
Le Mans 3 5 2
Second. Division 0
0 4
The second game, Uncle Sam's Fourteenth Amendments threw a scare into the big crowd. It will be noticed the visitors did not make an error in either game. Nantes opened the third with a single by Williams. Desmukes attempted a sacrifice, but was out, bunting the third strike foul. Lyons went out, second to first, but' Longware singled, sending Williams home. In the seventh, after Clark and White had been retired, Dudley was safe on Jenkins' error, took second on Fout's error and scored on. Moore's single. Tn the eighth, after Desmukes had died; Lyons singled, Longware tripled, bringing him in, but was left on third when his comrades failed to produce.
For the Indians, Jenkins walked in the fourth, McMurray sacrificed him to second, McGlad.e fouled to the catcher, Gresset walked and. Fouts tripled, bringing in both runners. Tn the fifth, after Woodman had been killed at first, Buck was beaned. Ashworth flied to center and Jenkins came through with a triple, scoring Buck. It was a bad day for three-base hitters. Of six making these long hits, but five tallied.
When the ninth opened, the score stood 3 to 3 and the grandstand and bleacher managers called for the retirement of Buck. They freely predicted a horrible slaughter of the Indians. Buck rebuked these howlers by striking out the side in order. Then came the last half. Anderman was out, short to first. Woodman walked, Buck singled and Ashworth sent Woodman in with the winning run by smashing a long drive through center. The score:
R. H. E.
Second Division 0 0 0 2 1 0 0 0 1-4 5 3
Nantes 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 1.0-3 9 0
Summary: Struck out—By Buck 5, Desmukes 1. Bases on balls—Buck 2, Desmukes 6. Hit by pitcher —Buck. Sacrifice hits—McMurray 2. Stolen bases—Woodman, Malacher, Gressett. Double plays—Mc-Glabe to Fouts; McGlabe to Jenkins. Three-base hits—Fouts, Jenkins, Longware.
(general Lejeune and Staff Watching Game With First Division at Montabaur
The boxing card as arranged for the fight fans by Lieutenant Mooney drew a big crowd at the Heddes-dorf grounds. The star affair was between Leckie of the Sixth Machine Gun Battalion and Farney of the First Division. Leckie weighed 130 pounds and his opponent stood a head taller and weighed 138.
Two of the ten rounds were fairly even ,but Leckie was by far the more clever, landing the most effective blows and winning the decision. The first bout was four rounds, between Irish of the Second M. P.'s and Halley of the First Division.
The first and third were even, but Halley had the advantage in the other two and was awarded the decision. The men fought at 145 pounds. The second fight brought together Richards of the Marines and Clenton of the First, four rounds at 145 pounds. The bell saved Richards in the first and the referee saved him in the second.
The third preliminary bout was six rounds between Sergeant Rex of the Marines and Schramm of the First Division, at 165 pounds. Schramm had a network of tattoos on his arms and body. On his expansive breast was a lighthouse and a full-rigged ship, which Rex tried hard to torpedo. He did not succeed in wrecking it, but did produce a beautiful October sunset on the landscape. Marine Petroskey, who refereed the contests, awarded the fight to Rex.
The game of baseball to decide the championship of Heddesdorf was played on the division grounds and was won by the Division Headquarters team over the First Field Signal Battalion by the score of 4 to 2. These teams battled to a scoreless tie on June 2nd. The batteries were: Pulver and Drout for the winners, and. Kelly and Kerr for the losers.
'r'age Twelve THE INDIAN
I shall write the events as near as may be recollected of the counter attack at Mont Blanc Ridge on the night of October 4.
As the remnant of the Twentieth Company was quartered within that well-remembered gully on this night, perhaps it may be said to fulfill the requirements of this article as well as to furnish a basis of recollection to those of us who may have forgotten it for the moment.
Many will recall how the Third Battalion, after being driven to the gully, was subjected to severe fire from three sides, owing, I believe, to the French battalions on our left failing to advance as rapidly as our own. Our patrols had reported, just before dark, the movement of a large body of troops unrecognizable and at considerable distance to our left, but evidently approaching our position.
As the dusk deepened into real darkness, we were posted at intervals along the crest of the gully on both sides and stood by to await developments. As the Very lights were shot over into the immediate foreground, it was disclosed that there was an enemy body of troops, and in the clearer light of the flares they could be plainly seen advancing in -the old skirmish order. An officer, who marched with them, was directing them with arms extended, and, plainly to be seen was the ever present walking-stick or cane in
Our company commander was then Lieutenant Davies, whose command was. "Do not fire a shot um-til the order is given." But from the Machine. Gun Company on our extreme left came the cheerful staccate of a Hotchkiss and then the lid flew off completely down at their end. From the number of red flares that went up on the German line, they must have thought that a general attack had commenced, as they gave up their threatened counter-attack—at any rate we had no further trouble from them and were relieved soon after:
An attack at night is always more dramatic than at daylight and, perhaps while considered in contrast with the more terrible and destructive actions of the great war, this one may seem puny and of no great account, still, at the time, I believe that we all felt that it was fraught with much concern for us and, as for myself, I shall not forget it and the thoughts and pictures it recalls, to the last day of my life
—Sgt. Chas. S. Cole, Co. K, Fifth Marines
THE INDIAN Page Thirteen
"The past was faded like a dream." Notice that this man says: "WAS faded like a dream." The things that we used to do, the things that we have done in the past, the things that will mean so much to us in the future, they are all faded into the past, "like a dream," until one day we see something or hear something that brings them back to us with such force that it surprises us to see how well we remember the event.
This man had forgotten a good many things that took place in his home town before he left home, before the war broke out over the land, and his mind was full of the more recent events of travel and sight-reeing and of home-coming, but he had been home hardly a half day before he came face to face with his best girl.
His joy at meeting the home folks was great, but his joy at meeting this girl whom he had loved, and still loved, was even greater, until she looked him square in the eye with an inquisitive, questioning look, as if she would read his very soul, as if she would dig down into the very depths of his mind and bring out what he had stored away there.
Then the things that were "faded like a dream," things that should not have happened, things that he was far from being proud of, it was then that those things jumped into his mind clear and distinct, and he flinched before those honest blue eyes, or brown. as the case may be.
Now is the time to think about those things, whatever they may be, and steer clear.
"His eyes forever on some sign, to help him plow a perfect line."
Do you remember how you used to tie your handkerchief to a pole and stick it up at one end of the field so you could watch it and plow to it in a straight line? Maybe it was a corn shuck, or a full boll of cotton, but you put it there to guide you to where you wanted your furrow to finish without any curves and turns.
This life of ours can be said to be a furrow, a long, long furrow, that we must plow through to the end of the field, the end of life. Now it looks to me like a guide is as necessary in plowing this furrow of life as it is in that farm land we used to break up every year.
Different people have different ambitions; different people have different guides; different people have
different ideals and goals to work toward. But it looks to me like our lives will count for more, will be more
pleasure to us, and will give us more profit in the long run if we set some sort of guide which we expect to reach, a goal that we expect to pass when we reach the end of our furrow, when our life is finished.
Some of us have a hard row of stumps, some of us have a fine field to work in. Regardless of the easi ness or hardness of the conditions as they are now, we can do better with something at the other end to plow to, something to guide us, and something that signifies the completing of a task.
Tie to something definite. Set a goal for yourself, and then see to it that you get there.
Here is the description of the entire worldly wealth
of a certain wanderer mentioned by one of our poets:
"One old wagon painted green,
And three ribbed horses wrenching grass, Three wild boys to watch me pass,
And one old woman by the fire."
There's your future home and your future worldly wealth if you join the much spoken of "sons of rest." I doubt if you'll have even as much as this man had. It applies to me as well as everybody else.
We talk about the time when we will get a discharge, and then we'll lay back and enjoy ourselves. Some say they will not work, that the world owes them a living. I hope that none in our division have that sort of feeling, but the remark is heard sometimes whether it is spoken seriously or not.
That "sons of rest" stuff that we read about won't work and we know it. It's up to us to help drive it out of existence. The future of our country, the future of each individual one of us, depends on the enthusiasm to do things and accomplish things that will return with us when we are sent home for demobilization.
Cry tomorrow, if you must, but laugh today.
The world may love a lover, but it hates a quitter
Girls, if singleness is bliss, 'tis folly to be wives.
Many a friend in need is allowed to remain in that position.
The bet you intended to make but didn't is always a safe bet.
Revenge is the doubtful pleasure of a weak and narrow mind.
Procrastination may be the thief of time, but there are other watch lifters.
Hard facts do not always make an impression on a soft-headed man.
The fools who rush in where angels fear to tread are lucky if they are able to crawl out again.
Occasionally the wires become crossed and the minister answers the call of somebody to preach.
"Silence gives consent," the young man remarked when he asked a deaf and dumb girl if we might kiss her.—Exchange.
Page Fo .1- teen THE INDIAN
"Schloss" is German for "chateau" or "mansion;" "Monrepos," French meaning "my repose." A combination to be sure, these days. Incidentally, it is regimental headquarters, Fifth Marines.
Covering the tap levels and the sides of the mountain, the estate, comprising the mansions, farmhouses, pastures, swards, fields and woodlands, is the prop-ercy of a titled prince known to the inhabitants about
us as the "Furst zu Wied," or Lord of the Wied. In ye good olde "Friedenzeit" he summered here and
executed his affairs from the schloss in Neuwied. There are two mansions on the estate, just on the snoulder of the rise behind Segendorf. To reach it
you pass through that little village in which, had Irving been a German, he would have gotten his inspiration for "Sleepy hollow;" Segendorf meaning "Village of Peace," and appropriate "rest camp" for the jaued battalion of marines that anchored there, their last objective on December 17, 1918.
Before Monrepos lies Napoleon's "Garden of Paradise" with the bottom lands of the Rhine spreading away to the mountain bases of the left bank, the highlands our columns cut through and crossed on that memorable hike to the occupied territory. The Rhine, itself, cuts a silver streak across the panorama at an angle, making the scene typical and putting nature s finishing touch to the picture of her splendors.
The one mansion is new, modern and luxurious in every respect, a red and white beauty of stone, the home of two princesses, sisters of the Furst. There our regimental commander, lieutenant colonel and officer of operations are quartered, and before the entrance Old Glory and the Globe, Anchor and Eagle flaunt their defiance in one of the most beautiful spots nature graced our earth with—outside of God's country.
It is the other, the "White Schloss," that is particularly interesting. It is exactly what many a Colonial gem was in the early days of our own new world, when deer grazed on the present site of our eastern cities. It is a hunting lodge, two-storied throughout and so constructed that a third floor is in the center and both extremities. It is not a Mount Vernon type, lacking the colonial colonades and French windows. Nevertheless, it- boasts of a maze of window panes, but I suppose you might call them "Dutch." I am certain my lady in her silks and satins and dainty high-heeled slippers would have a bit more trouble in stepping out on a balcony unaided than in a chateau of France.
On the first floor were the living and lounge rooms, the music room and ballroom. The second was one tier of bed chambers opening into the great white hall that runs the length of the lodge, except in the very center, where perhaps was another lounge room. And a lodge it is, for the hall is adorned with antlers, the trophies of many a memorable hunt, each pair separated from another by well done oil paintings of notables of both sexes of the dim past. It seems to have been traditional for sportsmen to autograph the antlers of his kill and hang them in the lodge.
The view is best from the White Schloss. Below you is Niederbieber, Neuwied, Engers, Vallendar, the foot of Ehrenbreitstein and Coblenz. On a clear day the signal's great telescope can readily pick up the Denkmal of Wilhelm I at the Moselle-Rhine junction.
Doubtless it was designed to withstand the attacks of man and the ages, but it accomplished neither. Now it is a ruins and we "took it without a shot." Of these early knights of might and conquest, the present Furst is a lineal descendant.
The stables are complete in themselves and do justice to the premises. In some of the empty stalls the spectres of slender hunters seem to lurk, stamping impatiently as the horns sound and the pack, straining at the leash, is brought up for the start.
The woodlands are majestic, almost infringing on the habitation man has wrought out of their primeval splendor. The trees are almost invariably beeches, with some assortment of oak and elm, while here and there are patches of evergreens, where great spruces grow so close together that their branches interlock, beneath which are recesses almost as secure as under the dense vegetation of a jungle.
Lilac and other flower-bearing bushes and shrubs are in blossom. Forget-me-nots grow wild on the sunniest slopes, but the lilies-of-the-valley, the wild mayflowers of the Rhineland are past. Wax-like daisies grow even more abundantly. Schnee klochen (snow-bells) were the very first signs of the spring we longed for but a short while back.
Just as the gray of dawn materializes, the owls hooting their last and the nightingales, the most nearly spiritual of any songsters, are relieved of their all-night watch by a myriad of big and little songbirds, piping in solo and chorus, who continue into the broad twilight until even the throaty call of the cuckoo is stilled.
There are the quail and pheasants, and great hawks that only abdicate in favor of greater than they—the birdmen when they take to the air from Neuwied.
The small folk of brush, tree and field are well represented. A footfall down a carpeted path is certain to startle a host of them—red squirrels, chipmunks, field mice, rabbits and blinking lizzards. And the deer! There are spots you will invariably surprise them, especially -at dusk, when they chance the open glades for a few nibbles.
Besides the deer at large in the mountain expanses, there is a preserve, an enclosure, on the estate.
• It may be interesting to know such is the home and environment of some of the most fortunate marines of the A. E. F., for is it not a realization of "sitting on the world?" The White Schloss is the enlisted man's very own, where a buck private enjoys not only a room, but all that goes with it. A bed, carpet, writing desk and upholstered chairs are his, and he lives the "life of Riley," with his smoking set, old prints of the chase, canvas paintings and mirrors. And then you wonder why he lost so quickly the crudeness of field and camp when you met him, blithe and cheerful, on his pass to Paris.
—Pvt. G. A. Stroh, Fifth Marines.
THE INDIAN Page Fifteen
"People go to foreign countries for rest and fail to get it because they take themselves along."—(Emer-son). We catch ourselves thinking of all sorts of things sometimes, things that we wouldn't dare to tell about. Sometimes these thoughts bear down upon us so heavily that we can't get rid of them.
The more we try not to think, the more we think, and the more we try to force our thoughts into other channels the more our thoughts revert to the un-destrable. When in such a condition we are apt to wander, to sit down, to stand up again, to lay down, to sit up again, to walk around, to move around, anything under the sun to get away from ourselves for a little bit and stop thinking. Good men are made into hopeless drunkards when under the influence of such moments, trying to relieve themselves of the burden of having to bear their burdens.
To fight it out by the use of mental and physical stamina, so often spoken of as "guts," is the job of a MAN, and brings real sure enough rest and comfort.
It is a condition of mind, and the person that tries to find rest by simply going front one place to some other place is going to be hopelessly disappointed. He must inquire into HIMSELF for the CAUSE of the unrest, and put that cause entirely out of mind, then he can proceed to enjoy himself and to rest.—York Spur.
That ancient ditty entitled "Where Do We Go From
Here?" would sound rather appropriate now, would
it not?
"Why Is a Mess Sergeant?" answered in one in-
stallment by Sergeant McHale.
-- * --
It may truthfully be said the Yankee hobnails are
leaving their "marks" along the Rhine.
We have noticed that Sergeant Kelly's youthful
dome is sprouting several grey hairs. Better climb the
pole, Al. —"PAT "
Shooting Up the Second Ammunition Train
Page Sixteen THE INDIAN
Our lines were beyond Thiacourt, on September 12, 1918, when our Indian, Alexander R. Shagway, reached them.. He had been with a detail of engineers that was helping the tanks forward during the attack, and becoming disgusted with the work hi the "S. 0. S."—or perhaps from fear of losing contact with the division—he had gone A. W. 0. L. to more exciting areas.
There was a small town about a kilometer ahead that was supposed to be occupied by Boche troops, and as the infantry captain stood looking at it he wondered what he was going to run into there. Later that day he told me the following story:
"I saw your Indian standing by the tree. Of course, with the castle painted on his helmet, he was easily spotted as an engineer. We had some engineers with us as wire cutters, but I did not remember any Indians among them.
"You know, we are rather inquisitive about strangers during a show, so I sent for him. When he came, I asked him what he was doing over here, and he replied: 'I was with the tanks. Too slow. Come looking for Second Engineers.'
"Well, the state of affairs in that town ahead was worrying me, and I remembered the ability of an Indian as a scout, so I asked him if he could go to that town and let me know whether the Germans were there or not, and if so, how many.
"He said, 'Me go,' and the damn fool walked straight down the road into the town. He got there all right—we could see that—but after an hour of waiting we gave him up as lost, thinking that the Boche had let him walk into the town and then collared him with ease.
"About that time I was hoping he would keep his mouth shut, for the 77's were falling thicker than ever. He had been gone an hour and a half when I saw' him again. He was coming across the fields this time, probably because he considered the road too hot.
"With field glasses, I could see he was carrying something large in his arms. When he got about half way to the line, he stopped and put the load down, removed his pack and sat down. That was an unhealthy place to loaf, for the field_ was being well sprinkled with small stuff. He seemed to be doing something to his pack, but he was too far away for his actions to be seen distinctly through the glasses. He finished his peculiar motions, took up his pack, and returned to me.
"Do you remember the pack the replacements used to come to us with, the kind about a third larger than a locker trunk? None of those packs ever had anything on this one. It was about the size' of a barrel and hung from his back to about six inches from the ground.
"Although a little sore over the delay, I Was anxious about what was in the town, so I asked him what he found there. He said: "No Boche. Lots rum.
Cine rum.' I then wondered what was in his huge
pack. 'Rum, seven bottles,' he said.
1 asked: 'Let's see it.'
'Can't do. Engineer supplies.' He's gone back to your company. What's tne hurry, lieutenant?"
I answered, "Nothing sir. 1 have a requisition to be tilled that is important right now. Y ou don't know wnere the engineers were ordered to report uack to, do you?"
—Lieut. Lyman iVicE. Chase, 2nd Engineers.
A much abused thing was our wagon of tin, A spurt and a cougn, it was tnen all in; Ana notwitnstanding itabedeau's skill, Lizzie was immer, immer ill.
Oft would the would-be doctor crawl under The helpless flivver, and work like tnunder; Forever at it, with hammer and tongs, But ne'er could he right poor lizzie's wrongs.
Jacked up here and jacked up there, From morn till night, suspended in air; A front wheel off, a rear wheel on; Radiator leaking, spark plug gone.
Tne skilled mechanic carefully wraps A blanket around the flivver's slats; Often had 1. thought that Liz,
Must be suffering from rheumatiz.
One day 'twas decreed by the powers that be,
To get a new Doc. for the tin Liz-zee,
And now it rattles and rambles along,
Always grinding the same old song.
Now as it needs no more repair, This old tin wagon hauls its share Of mineral water; men on pass; Hoffman's famous citations en-masse.
Johnson looks for a little assistance, How about Liz for a little sobsistence? Heimiller, too, to the medico rides, He has a pain in one of his sides.
Cash, every day in the tin wagon goes
For a load of mail, as everyone knows,
Comes back so gaily, a great big sack
Of newspapers dated just twenty years back.
It's "Pierson," "Yessir," "Take this man
To Timbucktoo or Hindustan;
Run Rob Slater to the Fifth Marines,
To fix a thousand and one machines".
To another outfit we may turn it o'er,
This fact us fellows will all deplore.
If they run poor Lizzie out into the cold,
Will the boys miss it? "Ach! Jawhol."
—A Passenger,
Hdq. Det. Second Supply Train.
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