The patriot. [volume] (Indiana, Pa.) 1914-1955, 1917-12-29
How Pershing Men Conduct
Themselves in Trenches.
JUST MISS GENERALS AUTO
Chauffeur Ducks Head, Dons "Tin
Hat" and Sticks to WheeI-Laby-
rInth of Trenches Is Just Like Main
Street to American SoIdiers-Gun
Forces Huns to Lose Laundry.

was the way certain American COLO
mel smilingly described the visit of
German shell which recently struck
his headquarters.
The colonel at that time was work
ing in his "off1ce" at headquarters, a
chateau near>t the trenches. Orderlies
were coming and going. A dozen Off
GERS were working in various rooms.
Suddenly the German shell crashed
into the roof and exploded half way
down the second floor.
The explosion smashed windows ev-
erywhere and scattered rain of plas-
ter over the colOnePs bed.
Two minutes later we found the
colonel standing on his steps looking
the building over and gingerly ham
ding some hot fragments of the shell.
One hour before the German shell
! struck home an American general had
left his automobile near the chateau
and walked 100 yards away, when q
shell struck near the car. The auto
mobile was showered with mud and
stones. The American army chauffeur
ducked his head, donned his "tin hat"
and stuck to his wheel.
A zig-zagging ditch, walled in with
hand-woven twigs, khaki-clad Sam
mics standing on the firing step-this
is Americas first line.
I Know Trench Labyrinth.
1t winds like a brown scar across
the face of the hill. Sammies, peer
ing cautiously over the parapet, have
an unobstructed view across q valley
to where the Boche is sulking in his
own front line trenches.
! Americas front line in the land
branch of the battle for democracy
isn't just a plain ditch. To the un-
! initiated it is a labyrinth of twists
and turns and holes and mounds. But
to Sammy, it is as simple as Main
street, back home. He knows every
dugout, every traverse, every listening
post.
Standing on the f1re-step at one
place in the trench beside q Nebraska
soldier, strained by eyes across death
valley to where the enemy holds forth.
1t was a dank, tangled tarn. Weeds
run wild for three years, luxuriated
there. A battered village stands mid
way, awaiting the day Of reclamation.
1t was still. Not a sign of move
ment showed anywhere. Nothing
moved over where the German
trenches were.
Suddenly an American gun cracked
twice. Shells shuff1ed instantaneous
ly over us and detonated lover there"
in wriggly puffball fashion. Perhaps
unseen Boches were sent scurrying
underground by its wicked fragments.
A crow wheeling in midair was
struck by bit of this shrapnel. He
dropped to the earth like q plummet.
"There aln't any use writing about
that to the home folks" said the tall
Nebraska soldier. "They wouldn't be-
lieve me if told it to 'em."
We passed on down the trench. A
Memphis (Tenn.) machine gunner was
our next acquaintance.
"There are plenty Of ducks in Death
valley" he volunteered, after someone
had mentioned the crow incident.
Mans Land, and they gather around
there"
From somewhere an American snip
er's rifle cracked the deep stiffness
and then quiet settled down again. In
| growing shadows we passed on down
the trench. As we stopped, there came
! abruptly the unmistakable whistling
Of shells, then instantly three bangs
/ as the three shots struck q hundred
yards away, near the first line. There
/ were no casualties.
/ Immediately the American guns
1 took up the challenge, measure for
measure. Then it was quiet again.
That brief interchange suggested in
| quiry as to what took ~place in the
( first lines when shells came over. A
Wyoming boy proudly showed his dug
! out.
Huns Lose Their Laundry.
"It accommodates thirty-eight of US,
also a million rats" he remarked with
a grin. "And forgot the dozen or so
cats"
! We passed still farther along-and
got by a machine-gun post just in time
! to see the little death-dealer rattle
lively baFage over against a German
village where the Boches were seen to
be hanging out their shirts on a
clothes-line. The Huns f1ed-leaving
their laundry.
Reaching the end Of the American
sector, we turned to the rear. A tomb
like stiffness reigned at that moment.
1t was so quiet that the loudest sound
was the water splashing and swishing
under the "duck-boards" Qattice work
pavements) beneath our feet.
Half an hour later the lull was
broken. The Boches started a sud-
den spasm of artillerying. They hurled
so shrapnel shells with a drum-6re
speed-25 a minute, perhaps Distant
thumps and red flashes near US showed
the American gun voIley sent painstak-
ingly in reply.