The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1915-03-22
Real Danger of Charge Comes
With Darkness.
SIGN OF A FRENCH CORPSE
When "Juggler" Is Seen Morn.
ing Is i'm Sight.
Remarkable Story by News
paper Man i'm France.
(By Phil Rader.)
Copyright, 1915, by the Onlteu
PreSS.)

|
Press.)
London, March 22.-The most PIC
| turesque and weird hours OF all the
life in the trenches is the time pc
tween sunset and fall of darkness.
If the real picture were put on the
stage it wouldn't be believed. You SIT
and watch it yourself, you feel that
your eyes and mind are decelvlng
YOU. AS the sun sinks and grows red
the shadows grow long, the gulcn OF
the trench fills with early night. II
begins to grow cold and the frost
crystals form on the muddy sides OF
the trenches, giving the effect of tin
sci or bits of bright stones. The dark
ness of the trench is broken, now ana
then, by the flare of a cigarette, pu11-
ed nervously, or by the flare OF d
rifle.
Shouted against the red sky is
the erect figure of a legion soldier,
his glistening bayonet protruoihs
above the trench walls, and catch1ng
the dying glare of the suns light.
Further along are the ugly SHADOWS
of the machine guns, frightened py
the polished brass work.
AS the darkness grows deeper you
of light on a distant hill, which flick
ers, in the Morse code, a message
from a French battery to its com
radeS many miles distant. They are
talking of some new plot to Kill human
beings. There is a rattle of rifles,
and their quick flashes, first at one
point in your trench and then another.
From afar comes the putt, putt putt
of a Maxim gun. Nightfall is the ma
chine guns hour. During the hours
of daylight the machine gun men
have got their ranges. and fixed their
aims, and now, in the darkness, When
their precious guns are safest from
sharpshooters, they flare out the re-
suit of the days work.
From distant corners of the COM
pass, comes the roar of deep throated
batteries.
Flare in Sky.
The stars seem all the brighter, be
cause you are gazing at them from
the bottom of your black trench. Sud
denly the sky is bisected by an arc of
sparks, terminated by beautiful
glare of pure white light, which trans.
forms night into day for a space of
many seconds. 1t is a night light
sent up by the enemy so that they
can see what they are doing; we might
possibly, they think, be out of our
trenches, with our bayonets fixed,
charging on them through the dark
ness. After the white light fades, the
night seems darker than ever.
The bullets while and Shrek over
head almost constantly, and all night
it will be like this, noises and lights.
noises and lights. The night is filled
with danger and surprises. Daylight
charges were never made, it was in
the nighttime, in the smallest weirdest
their trenches or we left ours, to run !
ahead into a hand-to-ha hand Stabbing
affray with the enemy.
The gray of morning is a sight of
good cheer. In our trench we meas !
ured the morning light by whether or
not we could see the legs of the Jug |
gler'' fluttering in the wind.
The Juggler.
''The juggler'' was the corpse of a |
which for six weeks lay |
some two hundred feet in front of our |
lying on his back, with his |
arms outstretched, a canvas water |
bucket clutched in each hand his legs
sticking up into the air, in a spot so |
deadly from rifle fire that one
could reach him. The dead may lie |
there through the nights and days.
The French called this grotesque heap |
1.-The Juggler," because they remem-
bered that Japanese athletes stretched |
themselves out in this dead French
mans posture and tossed things about
in the air with their feet.
When the rags on the legs of the
'tjuggler" were plainly seen, then we
knew that morning had come, another
night of madness had passed, and we
might sleep until the night lights and
the night noises broke out again at
sunset