The St. Mary banner. (Franklin, Parish of St. Mary, La.) 1889-1931, 1913-08-30


threes scattered broadcast over the
sun baked, cactus-clad hills-soldiers
OF fortune, insurrectos Of Mexico no
longer; merely men, who had broken
the laws OF land and were fleeing
for their lives.
1t had but one object In view-this
fighting machine broken into bits. that
had taken up the cause of country
other than its own-and that was to
cross the American border and there
seek the protection OF the stars and
stripes, under whose folds every
mothers son Of it's soldiery had been
born.
My bunkie and | were on the left
flank when the crash came. Some
thing hit that left flank and melted
1t. twisted and distorted it like SO
much steel put to the flame. ! did not
realize what 1t was at the time, but
do now. 1t was a battery, living,
breathing incarnation of hell in the
shape OF machine guns, handled by
men-who knew how to use them.
Our wing OF the army melted in its
hot breath. Men who had fought
standing, kneeled. Men who kneeled.
lay down, tried to bury myself in the
bosom OF Mother Earth and. Mother
Earth being baked adobe in that par
ticular SPOT. took to my heels.
1t was the beginning Of the end.
Eunruhndu r,1nninu what
the use Of remaining? They were
ten to one against US. this enemy, and
artillery to boot. Besides, our old
fashioned single-loading Springfelds
were being pitted against repeating
rifles of the latest pattern. And the
ammunition was running low.
Even thus reasoned as l ran. pell-
nell, for the border, four long miles
away. In my fancy there doomed be-
fore me the fate Of our wounded at
Tecate and the bloodletting Of the
Alamo.
Somebody gripped the toe Of my
boot and sprawled headlong into
cactus and rocks. 1t was a wounded
comrade, an American like myself.
only boy at that. whose rudy face
or over some neighboring campfire Of
Baja California.
His shoulder had been shot away.
A leg was crushed below the knee.
There was no hope for his life. but
he wanted to be taken away.
In
pail" he cried. They'll burn me.
they'll kill me SLOW" he moaned.
For a moment l was stunned by the
fall, but the boys pathetic appeal
brought me to my senses and burned
into my brain where 1t will forever
remain.
looked around me. There were
wounded men, most Of them boys.
clutching at their fleeing comrades,
beseeching them not to leave them to
the mercy Of the Mexican rurales.
Yet these men whom l had seen
cheerfully face death many times.
men who had enlisted In a foreign
cause unafraid to die in battle, but
standing ever in mortal terror Of the
torture chambers on the battle fields
of Mexico.
The Death Rain.
For q moment my manhood return
ed and the massacre fear left me.
would shoulder this MANNED bit of hui
mainly. stagger to the line with my
burden over those cruel, never ending
hills which l must scale with my
charge before we reached safety.
staggered to my feet. but the zip
zip of the "dum-dums,". those same
''dum-dums" that had crippled this
boy brought me back to realization
of my peril.
An instant l faltered in hosting
him to my back, but the boy seemed
to divine my change Of heart. He
gripped me again, this time with a
dying mans clutch which l could not
and would not shake OF unless |
broke his arm.
So shouldered the bleeding little
figure and labored forward, the while
he murmured. Good boy good boy
and the bullets OF the Federals ever
Kissed and screeched in my ears.
Something rose up in my path. 1t
barred my progress. 1t was shattered
by shot-a human form-scarce rec
ognizable now for the blood that stain
ed 1t from head to foot. But a voice
husky with pain and terror begged
me not to leave him.
Fled a. From an Enemy.
fed from this dying man as lled
from the enemy. Dodged him ~ he
reached for me. As passed hin
from his reach he tottered back on the