Bismarck daily tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, Dakota [N.D.]) 1881-1916, 1915-02-20

tnaL 3ne was ike Ills CIVIL WuOHl Nc
never expected to see again.
A train of ten siege guns moved
ponderously along the road. Each
piece had it's ammunition and equip
ment wagons, and company of soldiers
tramping behind; and each was pulled
with a large steam traction engine.
On the engine boilers were stamped
the words: Made in Leeds, Eng.
land" ~
The few people remaining In the vii.
lagos grouped themselves on the high
ground, discussing whether the sound
| Of firing were stronger or fainter than
in the days before; whether the Ger.
mans were y~etreating or advancing.
Killing and eakino.
The commissary was at work, kill.
ing cattle and hogs, baking bread and
sending food to the trenches; ambu.
lance wagons rushed by; wounded
who were strong enough came walk.
ing to emergency hospitals; and &C.
casionally Eid the booming Of IGerman
guns one heard the long whistle of
English shrapnel. Meanwhile soldiers
marched by always, with their mono
tonous swinging stride.
MY pass still worked. And I rode
slowly on among scenes which leave
In the mind a nightmare of horror; a
red vision Of machine guns and dead
men in bundles; and a feeling more of
Aisgust than admiration for the cold
business efficiency with which il Is ac.
complished. =
At Roulers two men Of the cycle
corps offered to take me to the firing
line, and we rode to Westroosebeke.
There the gray men loaded and fired,
loaded and fired. never saw The enemy
and we're hauled back wounded and
dead. Some 300 yards in. front were
the trenches. There other gray men
thrust ir their clips Of five" and shot
at other mems heads in other
trenches. An around the men fell
quickly like targets In a shootinA gal
lery. Shells broke and left small
clean.white clouds hanging in the sky
till the wind waved them away.
I sat on a railing with a group of
privates-several college boys, one
professor-by a cottage used as a Red
Cross station. We talked OF many
things. and there was wine-Belgian
wine-and there, we're lots Of good
cisars-Belsian cigars. These men
were resting. They had been out in
the trenches and soon were going
back. One had seen four classmates
killed. Occasionally the sound of
shrapnel would turn from whistling
into q screech. and then all would
duck instinctively, grin at each other
and wonder where II would break.
A game, and an interesting one. TWEEN
ty feet away q shot struck, splfntered
q tree and left the top half to fall. in
yellow smoke, across the road.
"Too Good to BE True"
This, l felt, was quite near enough.
But two Of my new friends insisted
upon getting permission to visit the
trenches with me-. We saw an officer.
"How did You get here?" he glared.
Then, turning to the soldiers: Put
him under arrest"
isn't my pass good" l asked.
'"Too good to be true" said he.
My friends of the bicycle corps, now
with loaded guns. one in front, one be.
hind, took me on = days ride to
Thielt. Here l was stripped and
searched and kept with q guard for
several days. Then by two armed
chauffeurs and a special messenger
I was conducted to Client. My auto
mobile belonged to a generals statf
and great was my conceit when at
our approach al soldiers stifened
to a salute. From Client another
machine returned me at last to Brus-
sells for further examination. ] was
left out on parole. however, and after
a week, at the i~nstigati6n of the
American consul, most of my papers
and sketches; which had previously
been taken from me, were returned
and I was escorted to the Holland
border. MY officer hosts assured me
that they we're most happy to have
made my acquaintance, but that really
all artists were s"verboten."