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THE CERCLE BANNER ii^hiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitiiiniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif H GUNNER DEPEW Ex-Gunner and Chief Petty Officer, U. r S. Nivy Member of the Foreign Legion of France Captain Gun Turret. French Battleship Cassard Winner of thè Croix de Guerre Copyright, 1918, by Reilly end Britton Co., Through Special Arrangement With the George Matthew Adame Service By ALBERT N. DEPEW FOREWORD. "Gunner Depew" is not a work of fiction, but it is more thrilling than any fic tion you ever read. It is the true story of the experi ences of an American boy who had a fighting career that is unique in the annals of the great war. It is a story crowded with fighting and adventure — big with human courage and endur ance. It is the first war nar rative that tells the true story of conditions in the German prison camps. It is a story that every Ameri can should and will read to the end. CHAPTER I. In the American Navy.* My father was a seaman, so, nat urally, all my life I heard a great deal about ships and the sea. Bvén when I was a little boy, in Walston, Pa., I thought about them a whole lot and wanted to be a sailor—especially a sailor in the ü. S. navy. You might say I was brought up on the water; • When I was twelve years old I went to sea as cabin boy on the whaler Therifus, out of Boston. She was an old square-rigged sailing ship, built more for work than for speed. We were out four months on my first cruise, and got knocked around a lot, especially in a storm on the Newfound land Banks, where we lost our instru ments, and had a hard time navigat ing the ship. Whaling crews work on shares and during the two years I was on the Therifus my shares amounted to fourteen hundred dollars. Then I shipped as first-class helms man on the British tramp Southern clown, a twin-screw steamer out of Liverpool. Many people are surprised that a fourteen-year-old boy should be helmsman on an ocean-going craft, but ail over the world you will see young lads doing their trick at the wheel. I was on the Southemdown two years and In that time visited most of the important ports of Eu rope. There Is nothing like a tramp steamer if you want to see the world. The Southemdown is the vessel that, in the fall of 1917, sighted a German U-boat rigged up like a sailing ship. Although I liked visiting the foreign ports, I got tired of the Southemdown after a while and at the end of a voy age which landed me in New York I decided to get into the United States navy. After laying around for a week ■or two I enlisted and was assigned to duty as a second-class fireman. People have said they thought I was pretty small to be a fireman ; they have the Idea that firemen must be big men. Well, I am 5 feet 7% Inches In height, and when I was sixteen I was just as tail as I am now and weighed 168 pounds. I was a whole lot husk ier then, too, for that was before my Introduction to kultur in German pris on camps, and life there is not exactly fattening—not exactly. I do not know why It Is, but if you will notice the navy firemen—the lads with the red stripes around their left shoulders— you will find that almost all of them are small men. But they are a husky tot. Now, in the navy, they always haze a newcomer until he shows that he can take care of himself, and I got mine very soon after I went Into Un cle Sam's service. I was washing my .clothes in a bucket on the forecastle deck, and every garby (sailor) who along would the Imcket a kick, and spill one or the both of us. Each time I would move to some other place, but I always ■earned to be in somebody's way. Fi nally I saw a marine coming. I was nowhere near him, but he hauled out of bis course to come np to me and gave the bucket a boot that sent It twenty feet away, at the same time heading me a clout on the ear that Joat about knocked me down. Now, ■d not exactly know what a marine Iß. and this fellow had so many Ij^es on his sleeves that I thought be must be some sort of officer, so I Jaat stood by. There was a gold stripe (etomlssioned officer) on the bridge anÉ I knew that If anything was wibng he would cat ln, so I kept look ing np at him, but he stayed where he wwß, looking on, and never saying a And all the time the marine j slamming me about and telling bm| to get the hell out of there. finally I said to myself, *T11 get tbfir gay If-It's the brig for-a month." Bo I planted him one in the kidneys anif another In the month, and be went eisan np against the rail. Bat he come back at me strong, and we were ■tlK ISor some time. Bat whss -it was over the cold stripe I came down from the bridge and shook hands with me! After this they did not haze me much. This was the beginning of certain reputation that I had In the navy for fist-work. Later on 1 had reputation for swimming, too. That first day they began calling me "Chink," though I don't know why, and it has been my nickname In the navy ever since. It Is a curious thing, and I never could understand it, but garbles and marines never mix. The marines are good men and great fighters, aboard and ashore, but we garbles never have ' 'a word for them, nor they for us. On shore leave abroad we pal up with foreign garbles, even, but hardly ever with a marine. Of course they are with us strong in case we have a scrap with a liberty party off some foreign ship—they cannot keep out of a fight any more than we can—but after It Is over they are on their way at once and we on ours. There are lots of things like that in the navy that you cannot figure out the reason for, and I think it Is be cause sailors change their ways so little. They do a great many things In the navy because the navy always has done them. I kept strictly on the Job as a fire main, but I wanted to get Into the gun turrets. It was slow work for a long time. I had to serve as second-class fireman for four mouths, first-class for eight months and In the engine room as water-tender for a year. Then, after serving on the Ü. S. S. Des Moines as a gun-loader, I was transferred to the Iowa and finally worked up to a gun-pointer. After a time I got my C. P. O. rating—chief petty officer, first-class gunner. The various navies differ in many ways, but most of the differences would not be noticed by any one but a sailor. Every sailor has a great deal of respect for the Swedes and Nor wegians and Danes; they are born sailors and are very daring, but, of course, their navies are small. The Germans were always known as clean M. /■ Gunner Depew. sailors ; that Is, as in our navy and the British, their vessels were ship shape all the time, and were run as sweet as a clock. There is no use comparing the vari ous navies as to which Is best; some are better at one thing and some at another. The British navy, of course. Is the largest, and nobody will deny that at most things they are topnotch —least of all themselves; they admit It. But there Is one place where the navy of the United States has It all over every- other navy on the seven seas, and that Is gunnery. The Amer ican navy has the best gunners in the world. And do not let anybody tell you different. months In the ü. S. navy, I received CHAPTER II. The War Breaks; After serving four years and three 14, officer, first-class gunner, 1914. I held the rank of chief petty It is not uncommon for garbles to He around a while between enlistments—they like a vacation as much as anyone—and it wàs my intention to loaf for a few months before Joining the navy again. After the war started, of course, I had heard more or less about the Ger man atrocities In Belgium, and while I was greatly Interested, I was doubt ful at first as to the truth of the re ports, for I knew how news gets changed In passing from mouth to mouth, and I never was mach of a band to believe things nntll 1 saw them, anyway. Another thing that caused me to be Interested in the war was the fact that my mother was born In Alsace. Her maiden name, Dler vienx. Is well known In Alsace. I bad often visited my grandmother in St Nazalre, France, and knew the coun try, So with France at war, It was not strange that I should be even more interested than many other garbles. As I have said, I did not take much stock in the first reports of the Han's exhibition of knltar, because Frits is known as a clean sailor, and I figured that no real sailor would ever get iiiiiiuiuiiiiiHiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii|iiiaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuuiuiiiuiiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii mixed up In such dirty work as they said there was in Belgium. I figured the soldiers were like the sailors. But I found out I was wrong about both. One thing that opened my eyes bit was the trouble my mother had In getting out of Hanover, where she was when the war started, and back to France. She always wore a little American flag and this both saved and endangered her. Without It, the Ger mans would have Interned her as a Frenchwoman, and with It, she was sneered at and insulted time and again before she finally managed to get over the border. She died abont two months after she reached SL Na zalre. Moreover, I heard the fate of my older brother, who had made his home in France with my grandmother. He had gone to the front at the outbreak of the w^r with the Infantry from St. Nazalre and had been killed two or three weeks afterwards. This made it a sort of personal matter. But what put the finishing touches to me were the stories a wounded Canadian lieutenant told me some months later In New York. He had been there and he knew. You could not help believing him; you can al ways tell It when a man has been there and knows. There was not much racket around New York, so I made up my mind all of a sudden to go over and get some for myself. Believe me. I got enough racket before I was through. Most of the really Important things I have done have happened like that : -I- did them on the jump, you might say. Many other Americans wanted a look, too; there were five thousand Amer icans in the Canadian army at one time they say. I would not claim that I went over there to save democracy, or anything like that. I never did like Germans, and I never met a Frenchman who was not kind to me, and what I heard about the way the Huns treated the Belgians made me sick. I used to get out of bed to go to an all-night picture show, I thought about It so much. But there was not much excitement about New York, and X figured the U. S. would not get Into It for a while, anyway, so I just wanted to go over and see what It was like. That is why lots of us went, I think. There were five of us who went to Boston to ship for the other side: Sam Murray, Ed Brown, Tim Flynn, Mitchell and myself. Murray was an ex garby—two hitches (enlistments), gun pointer rating, and about thirty-five years old. Brown was a Pennsylvania man about twenty-six years old, who had served two enlistments In the U. S. army and had quit with the rank of sergeant. Flynn and Mitchell were both ex-navy men. Mitchell was a noted boxer. Of the five of us, I am the only one who went in, got through and came out. Flynn and Mitchell did not go In ; Murray and Brown never came back. The five of us shipped on the steam ship Virginian of the American-Ha wallan line, under American flag and registry, but chartered by the French government. I signed on as water tender—an engine room job—but the others were on deck—that Is, seamen. We left Boston for St. Nazalre with a cargo of ammunition, bully beef, etc., and made the first trip without anything of Interest happening. As we were tying to the dock at St. Nazalre, I saw a German prisoner sit ting on a pile of lumber. I thought probably he would be hungry, so I went down into the oilers' mess and got two slices of bread with a thick piece of beefsteak between them and handed It to Fritz. He would net take It. At first X thought he was afraid to, but by using several languages and signs he managed to make me under stand that he was not hungry—had too much to eat, in fact. I used to think of this fellow occa sionally when I was In a German pris on camp, and a piece of moldy bread the size of a safety-match box was the generous portion of food they forced on me, with true German hos pitality, once every forty-eight hours. I would not exactly have refused a beefsteak sandwich, I am afraid. But then I was not a heaven-born German. I was only a common American garby. He was fnll of kultnr and grub; I was not full of anything. There was a large prison camp at St. Nazalre, and at one time or an other I saw all of it Before the war It had been used as a barracks by the French army and consisted of well made, comfortable two-story stone buildings, floored with concrete, with auxiliary barracks of logs. The Ger man prisoners occupied the stone buildings, while the French guards were quartered In the log houses. In side, the bouses were divided Into long rooms with whitewashed walls. There was a gymnasium for the prisoners, a canteen where they might buy most of the things you could buy anywhere else In the country, and a studio for the painters among the prisoners. Of ficers were separated from privates— which was a good thing for the pri vates —and were kept in houses sur rounded by stockades. Officers and privates received the same treatment however, and all were given exactly the same rations and equipment as the regular French army before it went to the front. Their food consisted of bread, soup, and vino, as wine Is called almost everywhere In the world. In the morning they received half a loaf of Vienna bread and coffee. At noon they each had a large dixie of thick soup, and at three In the afternoon more bread and a bottle of vino. The soup was more like a stew—very thick with meat and vegetables. At one of the officers' barracks there was a cook who had been chef In the larg est hotel In Paris before the war. All the prisoners were well clothed. Once a week, socks, underwear, soap, towels and blankets were Issued to them, and every week the barracks and equipment were fumigated. They were .given the best of medical atten tion. Besides all this, they were allowed to work at their trades, If they had any. All the carpenters, cobblers, tailors and painters were kept busy, and some of them picked jip more change there than they ever'-dld In •"Germany, they told me. The musi cians formed bands and played almost every night at restaurants and thea ters In the town. Those who had no trade were allowed to work on the roads, parks, docks and at residences about the town. Talk about dear old Jail ! You could not have driven the average prisoner away from there with a 14-inch gun. I used to think about them in Bran denburg, when our boys were rushing the sentries In the hope of being bay onetted out of their misery. While our cargo was being unloaded I spent most of my time with my grandmother. I had heard still more about the cruelty of the Huns, and made up my mind to get Into the ser vice. Murray and Brown had already enlisted in the Foreign Legion, Brown being assigned to the infantry and Murray to the French man-of-war Cas sard. But when I spoke of my inten tion, my grandmother cried so much that I promised her I would not enlist —that time, anyway—and made the return voyage in the Virginian. We were no sooner loaded In Boston than back to St. Nazalre we went. Gunner Depew, on board the French dreadnaught Cassard, gives the Poilus a sample of the marksmanship for which the American gunners are famous. Then he leaves his ship and goes into the trenches. Don't miss the next installment. • (TO BE CONTINUED.) » Something to "Greet" About. Persons casting about for something to worry about may take pleasure In recalling from "The Little Minister" the manner In which self-styled simple folk In Scotland regard the northern lights—"the devil's rainbow," Waster Lunny called It. "I sSw It sax times in July month," he said, "and it made me shut my eep. You was out admir ing It, dominie, but I can never forget that it was seen in the year '12 Jusl afore the great storm. I was only a laddie then, bot I mind how that awful wind stripped a' the standing com In the glen In less time than we've been here at the water's edge. It was called the dell's bosom. My father's hlnmosl words to me was, 'It's time eneuch to greet, laddie, when you see the au rora borealis.' Waster Lunny was "greeting" o'er the drought then, but twelve hours later the Quharity was out of Its banks, washing out the com and with a year's store of wool on Its crest was dashing out to sea. Moon by "Earthllght." When the crescent of the new moon appears in the west the phenomenon called "the old moon In the young one's arms" Is often observed. Part ly embraced by the horns of the cres cent is seen the whole round orb of the moon. The cause of this appear ance is that the "earthllght" upon that part of the moon not reached by the sunshine is sufficiently brilliant to ren der it faintly visible to oar eyes. Harnesses Sun's Raya An experimenter In the Royal Col lege of Science In Toronto claims that he has found a way to harness the sun's beat to industrial tasks of al most any nature. For Instance, by his experiments with mirror combinations be has focused reflected rays so as to melt a bar of lead at a temperature below freezing to a depth of one and a half inches in 43 seconds. Intended No Harm. Lucy was playing up on the lawn with her Uttle puppy when the dag next door came np wagging his tall in a most friendly way. The little pup stuck bis tall between his legs and started for the house. Lucy caught him, saying: "Don't be afraid, pup; be won't hurt you ; he just come over to introduce hlsself." Necessity. A national exhibition was recently held In Berlin to popularise the use of paper clothing. 9 Slice Libby's Veal Loaf and garniah'witn cucumbers, water* cress and salad dressing— very tempting! -9ä* r. mj'i fr. \ ,o. Veal Loaf with such flavor! T HIS delicately flavored Veal Loaf is made with such perfection by Libby's expert chefs in the immac ulate Libby kitchens—that you will always want these chefs to make it for you. You find it so appetizing, so nutritious a meat at such little cost and trouble. Order Libby's Veal Loaf for lunch eon today. Serve either hot or cold, your family will delight in it. Libby, McNeill A Libby, Chicago - iiSSiSiSSSiiiîiSSîiiîîiSiiSiSSiSiliiiiiîiiIliiiS t 3 into financial straits, The Piano at the Front. Lieut. Reginald B. Jones, formerly srganlst at the Commercial Street Baptist church, Newport (Mont.), wru ng from France, says: "The padre came along on Sunday evening, and our battalion had jpen-air service while the shells were whistling over and the German planes hovering. We salved an old piano from a ruined cottage. It had seven aotes missing and three holes from shells in it, but we mended the wires «'itb telephone wire and string. I played It for the service, the fitter having 'tuned' it. In spite -of the great discords we had fine, hearty singing." an -The A man's crookedness often gets him Si & ■ Icn *< I ' : ; ü; ; One Carload Every Two Minutes j I ■ '■ V 15,000 POUNDS MEAT A MINUTE GOING TO ALLIES T » Ved ame . trgre rl) In ty md ar da ta-, to of the nlf In moi hoi of ms ta* One Hog Oat of Every Four Being Sent Abroad, t p ick I t:ade >y the wl ole ackers tei an* 'I ra* in a mi mitt/ on' so»- xol m ond 1« the ta- 70 l 9X7. bb* • of • ban to the R. Shipments of meat have been going to the allies for some time at the rate of 15,000 pounds a minute. As the shipments are kept up during a ten hour day they amount to 9,000,000 pounds dally. The meat goes to sol diers of the United States and the al lies and to the civilian population of 'uget I all the countries at war with Ger ll B all Wi els wl (idas I2i the many. clai — Chicago Tribun», Juuê 5, till These statements were made by a prom inent representative of the United States Food Administration. No industry in the country has played a more important part in helping to win the war than the American live stock and meat-packing industry. Swift & Company alone has been forward ing over 500 car loads of meat and meat products per week for overseas shipment. àwift & Company, U. S. A. » An Afflicted Rooster. The whooping cough has been quit« prevalent in North Indianapolis recent ly, and Bobble Jones, the five-year-old son of E. R. Jones, 015 West Twenty ninth street, hud overheard his parents discussing the subject. Incidentally the next-door neighbors have a small flock of chickens. One morning Bobbie was playing In the back yard when their neighbor'» rooster began to crow loud and lustily. Rushing into the house In a great state of excitement^ Bobbie exclaimed : has that rooster got tha "Mamma, whooping cough?"—Indianapolis Newa, man who marries a widow usu ally finds out that he Is the successoi to her ideal husband.