The copper era and Morenci leader. [volume] (Clifton, Ariz.) 1911-1929, 1915-01-22
Unknown Stretcher Bearer De-
scribes Horror of Horrors.
Farmhouse, the Refuge Of Wounded
and Dying, Is Bombarded by ArtiI-
Iery = CHASTITY the Scenes
That Ensue.

London.-The Chronicle publishes
the following account of the lombard
ment of farmhouse, situated between
the French and German lines and tenn
porarily refuge for the wounded
The article is a 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 writer's:
I'VE 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 drain
or ditch at such a. moment Yet we
had time to ask ourselves whether It
would pass over or catch us In this
ridiculous position; and saw the past
and the future.
I'VE got up, muddy and peeyfsh- A
faint smell of dynamite filled the air.
We passed through the gateway. The
yard, surrounded on three sides by
the farmhouse and servants quarters,
was quiet and trim.
ground floor rooms were 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 he 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
a sigh.
Most of the wounded are taken
away in Iull of the combat. It is
three O'Clock in the afternoon. Firing
recommends, more violent than ever.
The shells whistle ceaselessly. An
adjutant, terribly wounded, begs to be
put into the cart, which seems to him
a guaranty that he willsbe among the
next to be removed. Scarcely is he
laid there than shrapnel bursts over
the cart, killing him. The firing sounds
more clearly.
"a wounded man In the kitchen
calls me. Struck by ball in the
chest. the poor fellow .pants for
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
up 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 tenderiy
to his lips.
Raising my eyes to the ceiling.
see the plaster break into q huge
star. and through a gaping hole the
end OF a great shell appears. The
ceiling sinks funnelwise; at the same
moment the roof cracks and the shell
explodes. Then all is dark
Presently / come to myself, half suffo-
Gated with dust and the fumes OF dy.
Mantle.
'tThe 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.
disf1gured. Shells have struck the
house on two sides
They manage to get into the cellar,
and here the German wounded, hungry
and desperate, burst out into com
plants OF this war Of unreasonable
agony into which they have been
driven.
My poor wifei My poor childreni'
tries one Of them. wounded In the
by fragment of shell.
Eat this moment, in dark corner.
we heard sob and a woman's voice
rose out Of the shadow. AN Of my
own children are dead and my hus-
band was killed up there IN the yard
Z was the farmers wife. She had
helpless, the work Of de-
struction. Children, husband. goods.
The had lost everything. And saw
,noe more the emaoiated dog up there