Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1916-02-06

waited for permission to dismount he
was smiling and laughing happily. Yes
terday when the plowhorses pulled his
express train off the rails ne descend
ed and pushed it back. and. in conse-
quence, was Splashed not by the mud
Of the race track. but of the trenches.
Nor in the misty. dripping rainsoaked
forest was there any one to applaud
him. But he was still smiling and
laughing. even more happily.
The trenches were dug around what had
been a chalk mine, and it was difficult to
tell where the mining for profit had stop
ped and the excavations for defense be-
gan. When you can see only chalk at
your feet and chalk on either hand and
overhead the empty sky. this ignorance
may be>eXcused. In he boyauX, that be-
gan where the railroad stopped. that was
our position. We walked through an end
less grave with walls of clay, on top of
which was a scant foot of earth. 1t
looked like a layer of chocolate on the
top OF cake.
In some places under foot was a cordu-
roy path of sticks. like the false bottom of
a rowboat: in others we splashed through
open Sluices of clay and rain water You
slid and skidded. and TO hold yourself
erect pressed with each hand against the
wet walls of the endless grave.
Sheer Wall of Chalk.
We came out upon the 'Hauts de
Meuse." They are called also the Shores
of Lorraine, because to that province,
as are the cliffs of Dover to the county
of Kent, they are natural barrier. We
were in the quarry that had been cut into
the top of the heights on the side that
now faces other heights held by the
enemy. Behind us rose a sheer wall of
chalk as high as a five-story building.
The face of it had been pounded by
.@11~ Il I'D ,a
whitewashed wall of a schoolroom at
which generations of small boys have
flung impertinent spitballs. At the edge
of the quarry the floor was dug deeper.
leaving a well between it and the enemy.
and behind this wall were the posts of
observation, the nexts of the machine
guns. the raised step to which the men
spring when repulsing an attack. Below
and back of them were the shelters into
which. during bombardment, they dis
beams, on top of which were bags of &C.
ment. piled three and four Yards high.
Not on account of the sleet and fog. but
in spite of them, the aspect OF the place
was grim and forbidding. You did not see
as at some of the other fronts, on the
signboards that guide the men through
the maze. jokes and nicknames. The
mess huts and sleeping caves bore no
such ironic titles as the Petit Cafe, the
ti-Boche, chez Maxim. They were
and brief. 1t was no place for humor
The monuments to the dead were too
much in evidence On every front
the men rise and lie down with death.
them living so close to the graves of
their former comrades. Where a man
had fallen there had he been buried,
and on every hand you saw between
the chalk huts, at the mouths of the
pits or raised high in a niche. a pile Of
stones. cross and soldiers cap.
Where one officer had fallen his men
had built to his memory mausoleum.
shells come. they dive for safety. So
that even in death he still protects
them.
In an Observation Post.
I was invited into a post of observa
ton and told to make my entrance
quickly. In order to exist, a post of
observation must continue to look to
the enemy only like part of the wall
of earth that faces him. If through
it's apparently solid front there flashes,
even for an instant, ray of sunlight,
he knows that the ray comes through
a peephole, and that behind the peep
hole men with field glasses are watch |
ing him. And with his shells he ham !
mers the post of observation into a
shambles. Accordingly. when you en- i
ter one, it is etiquette not to keep the |
door open any longer than is necessary !
TO squeeze past it. AS rule. the door ,
Is a curtain of sacking, but hands and !
bodies coated with clay, by brushing i
gainst it, have made it quite opaque.
The post was as small as a chart |
room. and the light came only through |
the peepholes. You got a glimpse of !
rack of rifles, of shadowy figures that /!
made way for you, and of your captain ,
speaking in whisper. When you put
your eyes to the peephole it was like /
looking at a photograph through a |
lake of Geneva, the houses of parlia- /
ment, or Niagara Falls. you looked !
across a rain -driven valley of mud, on
the opposite side of which was a hill. !
Here, the reader kindly will imagine ,
three stickfulls of printed matter de-
voted to that hill. 1t was an extremely
hill. but my captain, who
also is my censor, decides that what 1
wrote was entirely too interesting, es
pecially to Germans. So. the hill is
"strafed." He says | can begin again
with "Over there"
."Over there" said the voice in the
darkness, lis st. Mihiel.'
I st. Mihiel Is Ineffective.
For more than a year you had read
Of St Mihiel. Communiques, maps, IL
had made it famous and
familiar 1t was the town that gave
4 name to the German salient, to the
point thrust in advance of what should
be his front You expected to see an
solated hill, a promontory, some posi-
lion of such strategic value as would
explain why for st. Mihiel the lives
II thousands of Germans had been
thrown like dice upon board. But
except for the obstinacy of the German
mind, or. upon the part of the crown
prince. the lack of it. 1 could find no
Why the German wants to
,oid St Mihiel. why he ever tried to
,old it, WHY IL it so pleases him he
should not continue to hold it until his
whole line Is driven across the border
8 difficult to understand. For him 1t is
an expensive position. 1t
encthens his lines of communication
md increases his need of transport. II