Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1916-11-10

your position at any cost"
So far Wray succeeded in speaking
as to soldiers. Now his voice appealed
"And for Gods sake. boys. stick and
fight back when you're under fire, and
If you can't fight. If it seems there moth
ing possible hat you can do. If it seems
Just suicide to stay, stick. Boys, fol
your country's sake and your own
Stay at your position. 1t probably
won't do you any good to try to re-
treat anyway. But whatever you think,
stick!'
He jerked his head up and his voice
was formal again. "You are to defend
that section of our front against at
tack from the water-by boat-or by
men who may have crossed elsewhere
and move In this direction. Remember
what you've been told for battle. Take
care of your W front, and, unless or
dered to assist elsewhere. leave 1t to
other companies to defend their posts
or you will fail at your own. 1 repeat
to you the battle order which General
Stone has issued to all troops who
fight today in the first line of our de-
Tense. Our victory depends upon every
man holding his position or dying at
his post"
Wray stepped back and bowed his
head. Some one started a cheer, but
many of Company F-Jim Ashby fol-
one-had too much shame to join It.
Winslow, the captain, led to N 81. The
company followed and entered.
1t was a our story brick building,
old but substantial, with thick walls
and tall, narrow windows opening to-
ward East river. In front, upon the
first floor, was an Office, deserted now
and with desks shut and locked. The
space behind the Office was a ware
house floor. crowded with crates, boxes,
barrels. bales, and sacks of all sorts
and sizes. There was a freight ele-
vator In the rear where a man was
sitting with a rife across his knees. He
was a stocky. muscular man. upward
of forty. with tanned skin and sandy
brown hair, and with blue. determin-
ed eyes. AS he stood up Jim observed
that he had a peg leg. His right leg
had been cut off at the knee. In spite
made the recruits of Company f put
back their shoulders straighter. The
wooden legged man saluted Winslow.
"My name is Houston. sir" he said.
Il worked here. so l came to do any
thing I could. l used to be in the
rn01I1nr RIM cir U-no of SnnfiQ C0
and in the Philippines. I tried to get
into this. Of course. sir, but was re-
fused" He moved his peg leg for
ward.
Winslow looked him over. Houston
wore an old army shirt and khaki
trousers. Tell me what's here"
"Sugar. sir"
"And those packs?"
"Meal. The best stuff for protection
here, sir, is baled cotton in that corner.
There's more upstairs. l hope l can
help. sir"
"Show us upstairs" Winslow bid
him. There was no time for delay. If
n "a was not the most vital, neither
was it the least important post in the
defense of the eastern water front. A
couple of hundred yards to the south
lay Brooklyn bridge, half shrouded in
smoke. with shells bursting ove it for
it's whole length, with the American
militiamen and volunteers, who had
been fighting on Long Island, fleeing
across. A few hundred yards to the
north stretched Manhattan bridge, also
under shell fire, with American troops
running in rout. Directly opposite
N "a was the narrowest stretch of
the river, with the burning docks and
warehouses of Brooklyn barely a quar-
ter mile away from the boat slips of
New York. The smoke was drifting
low now, covering the water and con
cealing the boats being brought over
from Brooklyn. The battle-the noise
of artillery, the rattle of machine guns
seemed now just behind the smoke
on the Brooklyn shore. A shell-per-
haps a stray, perhaps a precursor of
a bombardment of the whole water
front-struck and burst in South street
before N "a. Company f dropped its
rifles and leaped at Winslow's orders.
There were cotton bales On every
floor. There was sacked wool, meal,
sugar. Company F, sweating and
gasping In the MONDAY heat, bore the
bales and sacks to build up barriers
at windows and behind the brick walls.
The wooden legged man brought a fire
hose and drenched the barriers, floors
and walls. A shell blew half the roof
off n "a. Houston put out the fire
and, with his rife, crouched at a win
dow beside Jim Ashby, kneeling be-
hind a cotton bale.
The retreat" of the American forces
from Long Island appeared to have
been accomplished. At least the guns
on the Brooklyn side no longer were
Smelling the bridge. And as the wind
swept the smoke below the great spans
Jim saw that the bridge was deserted.
The guns in Brooklyn seemed all con-