OCR Interpretation

The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, August 18, 1914, LAST EDITION, Image 14

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1914-08-18/ed-1/seq-14/

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young, healthy human flesh for the
machines to butcher.
"Up! Get on! At the double!"
The gallant young subaltern
dashes on he is waving his
sword above his head recklessly
a picture forVpainter. I am rush
ing after him his cheer in my
ears then the gallant. vision
begins to sway the sword flies
from his grasp the subaltern stum
bles and falls face forward in the
short, stiff stubble then I race
past him I can hear nothing
except the uncanny buzz coming out
of the wood I literally feel
how the lead is splashing into our
ranks, how men are breaking down
to the right and left of me.
"Down! Rapid fire!" I throw
myself on my face, my rifle at the
ready. Why does the order fail
to reach us? No shout comes from
the subaltern, none from the non
corns the nearest man a good
twenty paces away and then
one other only we three
The first line is lying shot down in
the stubble what's the next
thing? The ground becomes alive
behind us and clattering,
panting and shouting and
again the wood rumbles sullenly
there they are, lying flat,
breathing hard never a word
rifle to ready and shot
after shot they have filled up
our gaps.
Of a sudden a deep silence
The machines are silenced!
Not a single shot, not a single spurt
of flame there a rustling
amid the undergrowUi the
branches overhead are swaying fran
tically against each other. Look!
something is scurrying among the
trees, and pushing and hauling now,
to crown it all, they are trying to
save precious machines from us.
Yah! yah! The earth reverberates
dully and trembles under our tread
a roar of cheers, clubbed rifles,
that's how they are coming up he-1
hind us our reserves are driv
ing the last assault home they
are charging in dense mobs sappers,
sharpshooters, rifle men a tall
sapper jumps clean over me I see
how his eyes are flashing as he passes
Up, after them there is
the heather there is the en
trenchment down with you
into the trench and scramble up on
hands and feet where are
they? Where? where? there,
by that belt of firs they will
have disappeared in another minute
past thick, silvery tree-trunks,
through the green beech leaves, with
the sun laughing in them, the lust
of blood charges red and naked
headling through the undergrowth
and now there is something wrig
gling away so comically before our
eyes, and twisting with sinuous dex
terity in and out among the trees and
the " undergrowth there is
something clinging to the machine
as if it were ingrown into the iron
Ha, ha! in the clearing yonder the
horses are waiting
"Let go! Run for what you are
worth let go!"
But they won't let go for
their horses are already ploughing
through the undergrowth the
wagon is straining to the traces
in another minute they will
have thrown their guns into the
wagon and then so-long
I am done the trees are dancing
round and round before my eyes .
I catch my foot in the root of;
a tree. Lay on! Lay on!
They are "ours" who have come up,
and they are laying on blinding on
heads, and bayoneting bent backs
and bared necks, tin the whole tan
gle disperses squealing. I drag
myself to my feet. A lad, a mere
boy, is sprawling over and clutching
his abandoned gun with . an
oath some one dashes at him It is
my yokel bareheaded, his face dis
torted by rage the boy
stretches out his mangled hand to
ward him .off, his lower jaw is-wag-i

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