The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-01-14
BY CAPT. r. E. kLElNscHMIpT.

Berlin.-It is midnight. The re-
serve battalion of the Forty-nlnth
Prussian infantry regiment swings
from the broad macadamized highway
into a muddy country road. Out OF the
darkness looms a large farmhouse
surrounded by stables and large
barn; it is their destination for the
follows a battery. Stealthily, with
out sound, they have all arrived, for
the Russians are not far away, very
likely yonder, where the dark line
shows the beginning of forest.
The leader raps on the window.
open, please. Quarters for tonight"
The door is opened and room is
made ready for the officers. The men
must find place to sleep in the barn,
which is full of hay and straw, but
before turning in, some want the
warmth of the fire and cup of coffee.
They open the kitchen and an elderly
man from the reserve, "landwehr-
man." formerly a rural letter carrier,
makes fire and begins to grind cof-
fee.
Are there any Russians around
here?" someone asks the farmer.
No they were here yesterday. All
are away now"
The officers are looking around in
the rooms not used by their host and
family, and then stretch their weary
legs on the wooden benches in the
large living room. In the barn on the
threshing floor filled with straw, the
men are making themselves comfort
able Like ''will-o' the-wisp" flashes
here and there a pocket lamp or a
cigar igniter, careful that not a glim-
mer of light may be seen towards the
forest. Strict orders for the greatest
secrecy have been given.
One of the men has a creepy feel
ing, imagining that something is not
quite right, and voices his feelings,
but he. is Knocked by his comrades,
spooks. Another, climbing the straw
pile, suddenly feels something NOV
ing under his foot.
Hidden in the Straw.
There is somebody here. Make
light! Here! Here!"
Out of the straw a gray cap, Sec
ond, a third. Bearded faces pop up
everywhere. The whole threshing
floor of straw is alive in moment.
A petty officer jumps out of the barn
door, seizes his gun, and now levels
it at the dark forms.
Hands up, say! Don't you novel"
One gets a rap with the butt. He
fires, and a second one rolls insensible
down the straw-pile.
Hands up, say"
Everywhere gray forms are stretch
ing hands toward heaven. At the same
time, outside the barn commences
a furious firing. The men jump to
their rifles and out of the yard. Or
ders are being shouted, but how to
obey-where to go, in this pitch dark
ness, and out of this hell-hole-is the
question. You can't see your next
man, let alone the enemy. The Rus
sians-there, yonder, on the edge of
the forest!
Yes, yonder flash hundred lights.
They rattle and crack like whips, and
bullets patter on the walls or splash
on the ground. In the kitchen stands
the grizzly old veteran, busy with his
coffee-pot. ''Oh bosh, it won't amount
to anything" he growls to himself.
A window-pane skaters and the man
falls headlong to the floor. Here a
cry, there a groan, but now the rifles
begin to bark on the Prussian side
also. The men have jumped behind
the stone wall, behind trees and stone
fences, and are firing as best they can
into the darkness in the face of spit
ting lightning on the edge of the fer