The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1886-06-17
A PEACEABLE WARRIOR.

men. He was fat and rot fond of walk
ing, and he suffered dreadfully with hi
feet, which were flat and heavy. HI
was a peaceable, kindly soul, witt
nothing valiant or warlike about him
He missed the four little ones at home
that he dotted on, and he longed desper
ately for his fair young wife, with he
tender caressing ways and her kisses
He liked to get up late and go to bee
early; to eat and drink well, without be
ing hurried; and now death might carry
him off at any momant from all the gooC
things of this world. How he hated al
the cannons, and rifles, and revolvers
and swords, with a deadly, unreasonable
and, at the same time, well-foundeC
hatred The bayonets in particular were
his special aversion, for he felt that he
should never be agile enough to protect
his fat body from those weapons.
At the beginning of every battle his
legs used to weaken under him, and he
would certainly have fallen if he had
not remembered that the whole army
would have to pass over his body. His
very hair stood on end at the whistling
of the balls. For months he had been
living in fear and anguish.
His regiment was marching toward
Normandy. One day he was sent out
accommodating with small detachment,
with orders to explore part of the coun-
try and then fall back. The country
seemed quiet; there were no signs of any
defensive preparations. The Prussians
wers marching quietly down into val
ley cut up into deep ravines, when they
were suddenly brought TO a standstill by
a brisk fire of musketry. Twenty of
their men fell, and a squad of francs
tireurs rushed out of a little wood and
charged with their bayonets.
For moment Walter Schnaffs stood
motionless, too surprised and terrified to
think of flight. The next moment he was
wild to turn and run; but, unfortunately,
he could only run like snail compared
to those lean Frenchmen, who came
bounding along like a herd of goats.
About six feet in front of him there was
a wide ditch filed with brush-wood and
dead leaves. He jumped straight into it,
without thinking of its depth, as you
might Jump off a bridge into a river. He
shot like an arrow through a thick
hedge of thorns and briars that tore his
face and hands, and fell heavily, sitting
on bed of stones.
| Looking up, he could see the sky
| through the hole he had made. That
treacherous hole might betray him, so he
began to crawl cautiously ON his hands
and knees along the bottom of the ditch,
under the entwined branches, scrambled
away as fast as he could from the scene
of combat. Then he stopped and sat
down again, crouching like hare in the
| long, dry grass. For some time he could
still hear shots, and groans, and shouts.
But the struggle gradually died away
| and ceased. All became calm and quiet
again.
The night fell, filling the ravine with
darkness. The soldier grew thoughtful.
What was he to do? What would become
of him? Should he rejoin the army? But
how and where? And he would have to
go back to a life of fear, and anguish,
and fatigue and suffering, that he had
been leading ever since the beginning of
the war. No, he really had not the cour-
age to do it! He should never be able to
bear the long marches and brave the per-
petual dangers.
All at once he thought: "Supposing 1
was to be taken prisonerl" And wild
longing came into his heart to be taken
prisoner by the French. Prisoner! 1t
would be the saving of him; he would be
fed and housed, sheltered from all dam
ger of swords and bullets, safe in good,
well-guardcd prison. A prisoner! Oh,
what dream of bliss! And he made
up his mind at once: Il shall deliver
myself up as a prisoner"
He stood up, determined to put his
plan into execution without losing a
moment But as soon as he was ON his
feet whole crowd of unpleasant reflec-
tians and new terrors assailed him.
Where and how was he to give himself
up as a prisoner? All sorts of awful
pictures-pictures of death-passed be-
fore his mind. He would certainly run
the most fearful risks if he ventured out
into the open country with his pointed
helmet. He might meet band of labor
ers. Laborers who, as soon as they spied
a lost Prussian-a defenseless Prussian-
would certainly kill him like mad dog;
massacre him with their pitchforks, and
spades, and scythes and shovels! They
would mash him to a jelly, they would
make mince-meat of him, with all the
brutality of an exasperated, vanquished
people.
Or supposing he came upon the
francs-tireurs? Oh, those francs tireurs!
A set of madmen without law or dis
cipline who would be ready to shoot him
down for fun, to while away an hour,
and laugh at the figure he would cut.
And he pictured himself standing with
his back against wall, with the muzzles
of dozen guns pointed at him-he could
really almost see the little round black
holes watching him.
Or he might even meet the whole of
the French army itself. The advance
guard would certainly take him for a
spy-for cunning and intrepid scout
who had come out by himself to recon-
noitre-and they would fire at him. He
fancied himself standing in the middle
of field, he could hear the irregular
shots of the soldiers crouching in the
brushwood, and felt the bullets entering
his flesh, as he fell riddled like sieve
with shot. He sat down again in despair.
He could see no way out of his difficult
ties.
1t was quite dark by this time. The
night had fallen dumb and black. He
sat quite still, trembling at every slight
unknown sound that reached his ear in
the darkness. A rabbit, squtting down
on the edge of his burrow, almost put
Walter Schnaffs to fight. The owls
screeching tore his very soul with sudden
frights that were as painful as wounds.
He opened his google eyes to their widest
extent, and peered into the darkness;
and every moment he fancied he heard
footsteps near him.
After suffering all the tortures of the
damned for interminable hours, he saw
the sky beginning to tighten through the
branches overhead. A feeling of immense
'elief came upon him; his limbs lost
heir stiffness; his heart beat more
quietly; his eyes closed. He slept.
When he woke the sun was high up In
the sky, he guessed it to be about 12
o'clock. Not a sound disturbed the dull
silence of the fields; and Walter Schnaffs
began to feel the pangs of hunger. BE