Iowa state bystander. [volume] (Des Moines, Iowa) 1894-1916, 1914-12-04
Unknown Stretcher Bearer De-
scribes Horror Of Horrors.
Farmhouse, the Refuge Of Wounded
and Dying, 10 8ombarded by ArtiI.
Iery - GhastIy the Scenes
That Ensue.

London.-The Chronicle publishes
the following account Of the lombard
ment of a farmhouse, situated between
the French and German lines and tenn
porarily a refuge for the wounded
The article Is q translation from the
notes of a French corporal stretcher'
bearer. The Paris Temps says the
work OF the unknown author may be
compared with the most striking pages
Of some Russian writers:
1--WE now heard the whiz-z-z that
those who have once heard can never
forget. The shell was coming straight
toward US. We fell nat, in the twin
king OF an eye. our noses to the
ground. Happy he who finds a drain
or ditch at such q moment. Yet we
had time to ask ourselves whether 1t
would pass over or catch us In this
ridiculous position; and saw the past
and tho future '.,.-a,-v ~ - -. ~ =
1--WE got up. muddy and peevish' a
faint smell of dynamite filled the ar.
We passed through the gateway. The
yard, surrounded on three SIDES oy
the farmhouse and servants quarters'
was quiet and trim. ,
I'VE entered the kitchen and three
ground floor rooms we're full of wound
ed-French and German. Many OF the
unfortunates, lying on the blood
marked straw, had horrible wounds
A soldier asks for drink; as ne rises'
with hand stretched out for the glass
of water, a bullet comes through the
window and strikes him full In the
heart. The poor fellow sinks without
sigh.
"Most of the wounded are taken
away in a lull of the combat. 1t Is
three o'clock In the afternoon. FIRING
recommences, more violent than ever
The shells whistle ceaselessly. An
adiutant, terribly wounded, begs to De
nut into the cart, which seems to MIN
a guaranty that he will be among the
next to be removed. Scarcely is ne
laid there than a shrapnel bursts over
the cart killing him. The firing SOUNDS
more clearly.
"A wounded man in the kitchen
calls me. Struck by a ball In the
chest, the poor fellow pants FOL
breath. He is supporting himself by
one. arm, which slips on the bloody
straw. With the other hand he feels
in his overcoat pocket, which is glued
I'M with CONCEALED blood. for a letter
which he hands to me, his eyes full OF
tears. my sweetheart" he murmurs
And see in his fingers little lock OF
black hair which he presses tenderls
to his lips.
Raising my eyes to the ceiling,
see the plaster break into huge
star, and through gaping hole the
end of a great shell appears. The
ceiling sinks funnel.wise; at the same
moment the roof cracks and the shell
| explodes. Then all Is dark
Presently come to myself, half sumo
Gated with dust and the fumes OF dy
| Mantle.
1.-THE house is riven from top to bot
tom. and we can see the calm. blue
| sky through the broken roof The
| least seriously wounded men Olsen
gage their fellows. Nearly all Of us
are bleeding. The poor lover is dead
disfigured. Shells have struck the
house on two sides.
"They manage to get into the cellar
| ond here the German wounded, hungry
| and desperate, burst out into com
n1aints of this war of Unreasonable
agony into which they have beer
driven. =,
"'My poor wife! My poor children!
| orion one of them, wounded In the
stomach BY fragment Of shell. =.
AT this moment, in q dark corner
we heard sob and woman's voice
rose out Of the shadow. All OF my
| ,<I 80