The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1914-12-01


rope, and these deer on the battle
field are probably the safest of all
living things. Battles have ragged
on this ground for weeks and
thousands of men and horses have
been killed, the hungry Russians
have only held this ground, but
here are the three baby deer
safe and sound.
IL a. m.-We come to wide,
shallow creek. In tents on a
hillock beside the road is the
corps commander and his staff. A
network OF field telegraph wires,
the nerves of the army, stretch
out from the hillock and run off
among the treetops in the distant
hills.
Two temporary bridges cross
the stream. This is an infinitely
busy spot. Over these two bridges
pass all the hen, food and ammu-
milton that feed the battle in the
hills. This little creek, Is the
River of Death for thousands. A
regiment Of fresh soldiers, spick
and span Is just marching across.
At the same time, across the other
bridge wounded and sick men are
being brought from the battle
field. The contrast defies de-
scription. Days ago in some city
these fresh men marched through
the streets, singing in their war
enthusiasm. Their journey to
this bridge on the edge of the
battlefield has been long and
slow. But it's almost ended. A
short march will bring them
where death is playing all about.
They don't sing now. Their faces
are grave. A group Of other SOL
diers are cheering nearby. Their
captain has just made a little
speech telling them they are to
go into battle soon and that he
expects them to do their best.
On a hillside a mile away are
thousands of men in gray. They
form a gray carpet over the great
slope. can see a white horse
among them as / look through my
glasses. The carpet moves and
forms itself into patterns of
straight lines on green back
ground. These thousands of men
are to be taken to the front after
dark tonight. They are waiting
and to keep them from growing
nervous their officers put them
through drills now and then. 1t is
1880 now. but In this northland
at this time of the year, It will be
pitch dark at 4:45 this afternoon,
SO they have not many hours to
swarm idly on the safe hillside.
11:45 a. m.-We desert the
wagon to go the rest of the way
on foot. I see my first shrapnel
burst. II makes a tiny, lazily
floating cloud of white smoke
over the hills. Through my
glasses / see an Austrian aero
plane near the white cloud. An
other cloud and another and an
other break into view. The Rus
slams are trying for the aeroplane.
The aviator knows it, too. There's
no use Of his trying to climb above
the danger, for the shrapnel has
an upward range of over two
miles, so the machine turns tail
and starts back toward the Aus
trian lines. Puff! Puff! Puff!
More white clouds break out
around 1t. There are deadly cubic
miles of air up there and If the
aviator happens into one of them
there will be a burst of splintered
wood and tattered canvas and his
work will be done. But it's all
in the days work for the men in
the sky. He has been sent up to
draw a Russian fire so that the
whereabouts of a certain Russian
battery may be disclosed. He has
succeeded, too, for soon you hear
the Austrian shrapnel screeching
through the air toward the spots
in the heavens where the smoke
flies. The Austrians are feeling
over the forests. hills and valleys
for the Russian batteries. They
want the Russians to shoot and
the aeroplane has turned the
trick. Amid all these exciting
scenes we see hungry soldiers,
with their backs bent earthward,
digging with sticks in a field for
potatoes. Their stomachs are cry
ing louder than the shrapnel.
1870 p. m.-We pass piles Of
beside the road.