The Daytona daily news. [volume] (Daytona, Fla.) 1903-1926, 1915-01-08
FIGHT IN DEL|R|UM
Wounded Respond to Cry OF Raw
ing Comrade.
Correspondent Pens Vivid Description
of the Horrors Of War-life In
the Trenches a Continuous
Nervous Tension.
Bv GABRIEL oELAGARDE.


of US in the quiet garden smoking our
pipes. What Is it-a French attack,
or a German? Somewhere around
Chaulnes, 80 kilometers away, the
cannon are laundering furiously A
sullen, uninterrupted growing passes
over Amiens. Now and then we can
distinguish the more powerful shots
of the big guns, some of which we
saw passing through here. In any
case, things are warming up out there.
All day the battle will continue, and
we shall suffer the anguish OF not
knowing what is happening. Are the
Germans piercing the French lines!
Are the French piercing the German!
All around Amiens it has been thus
for a month. The same villages have
been fought for the same positions
taken and retaken. In some places
the unburied bodies Of men and anil
mails are so numerous that French
and Germans alike have withdrawn
from these shambles, which war has
made accused and uninhabitable.
This is the case, for example, at
Roye, little town of three to four
thousand inhabitants, of which the
official statements have spoken often.
To find and remove the dead one has
to search the cellars, go down into
wells and explore crumbling ruins of
A rnn0h Do ri sion frpm1n
a brave veteran of many fires, told me
that he would rather risk his life
every day in a burning building than
pursue this new trade to which he
has been assigned. The men engaged
in it are unable to continue more than
two days at time-no human being
could stand 1t longer.
But If it is hard for trained fire.
men, imagine the sensations of this
old rural notary public, calm and
peaceful, who went to visit the ruins
of his house in Albert, descended into
the cellar and there in the darkness
ran against body which swung to
and fro. 1t had been there 10 days.
He had to take it down and bury 1t
himself. 1t was the body Of one Of
the inhabitants who had killed him
self during the bombardment, evident
ly from terror.
The number of suicides in the
northern provinces is countless. The
newspapers may say nothing about
them, but the people know, and here
in the peaceful garden my COM
panions continue to converse of these
gruesome undercurrents of the war.
Such horrible details could never
have been imagined. 1t is not the
dead who suffer, but the living-the
men, for instance, who come back
from their stay in the trenches with
fevers and diseases. There are sew
eral here in the hospital who have
been delirious for days. Last night in
the long white room where the flames
of watchlights fickered feebly a
wounded sergeant suddenly rose from
his cot.
ION guard. On guard" he cried.
"It's warming up over there! Fix
bayonets, boys!"
Under the impulsion of the familiar
words of command half delirious men
all over the room staggered to their
feet and rushed among the cots in
their nightshirts, stumbling and
shouting. The attendant who told
me this still was visibly affected by
the scene. He had had the happy in
SEPARATION to command:
Halt! Rest arms"
And the mad brigade had obedi-
emily stood still Some of the soldiers
in this hospital have gone mad.
Think, too, of the frightful life in
the trenches, some of which are only
100 yards from those of the enemy
An officer described it at some length.
All day a continual tension of the
nerves and no chance to climb up
out Of the narrow ditch, even for an
instant.
Even nightfall brings little peace,
for it is the time chosen for surprise
attacks. Suddenly, not ten yards from
a trench, men rise from the darkness,
cry rings out; sentinel, who had
dozed in spite of himself, staggers to
his feet-too late, The dazzling rays
of searchlight a kilometer away
blind the men in the trenches. while
the attacking forces, who have the
light at their backs. charge bayonets.
Then all is dark again. The search
light is removed to escape the shells
of hostile batteries. In the shadow
of the moonless, starless night
frightful hand to hand fight takes
place, with hoarse cries of anger and
death, and with cracking of rifles.
Thus the nights succeed one an.
other, in heavy sleep full of dreams
and nightmares, some OF which are
only too real. Hearing all this. one
can understand that progress should
be slow. One asks ones self how
many more months and months long.
er this killing of men must go on,
this wearing them down, this diving
of disease, this frightening them into
madness. until at last the formid.
able invader shall have been driven
from France.