New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1917-07-08

is nothing but the reproduction of
an actual experience No fiction-no
establishment. Only cruel and hard
reality.
Major P, who had just inspected
TIE hospital units of a cantonment, was
about to reenter his automobile. He was
walking along with his nose in his note
hook. dragging one of his boots after the
other out Of the clingirg mud of the road
way. He was thinking of nothing in par
ticular except the tedum of the trip back
to general headquarters-over familiar
route, against a keen north wind whose
sting he could already feel in his nostrils.
Coming from a depot for the wounded
behind the lines he was to make his way
TO another point in the rear. That was
all.
His mind was not occupied with the de-
tails of the inspection which he had Just
DlaQe-duu Hldut Az q ANNAASA
fashion. There was nothing out of the
ordinary run to report. Everything was
going along about as usual-not too we'll
and yet not too badly. The war would
last. He didn't even wish to guess how
long it would last, judging that problem
TO be insoluble and any mental effort eX-
pended on it to be uselessly disturbing.
One must do his best from day to day
and think as little as possible of things
not brought to ones immediate attention
That was the attitude Of mind he sought
to cultivate, gratefully taking lessons from
the thousands Of simple soldiers with
whom he came in contact, who had ac-
CURED instinctively that philosophy OF
acceptance which he could attain to only
by powerful effort of the will.
Suddenly the sound of a cannonade, very
near him, made him lift his head. An
artillery duel-so far from the contact
trenches, so far from the enemy? At that
moment his hand touched the door of the
euto. The chauffeur, his nose in the air,
deeply interested, said to him:
"They are firing at German aeroplane,
Major"
Then looking up in.o the sky (Which
was very clear that day because Of the
north wind) in the same direction in which
the soldier was looking, he saw an enemy
observer. 1t was a biplane flying at
a height of 1900 to 1880 metres, not
seeming at all disquieted by the little
feeces of white smoke which, with faint,
far-off sound burst into view about its
insect body-a body like that of an ex-
eggerated dragon-hy. Al. the gunners Of
the cantonment and Of the surrounding
district were firing necessarily at that
aerial target.
The major shrugged his shoulders. He
had seen the same thing a hundred times
before and knew thai hit from the
ground was rare-almost impossible. 1t
was as if one should try tc shoot a pigeon
with a rifle. Such Spectacles were good
for the blues. But, for himself, he was
blase. He was skeptical, so far as results
went. 1t was good powder thrown away
much too much good powder. Let the
enemy fiers spy on our lines, so long as
our fiers also spy on theirs. 1t is a game
!. that two can play.
N "Let US start" he said 20 the chauffeur.
"We have forty kilometres to 60"
Wrapping himself in his greatcoat, he
took his seat, and the chauffeur got out
TO crank up. But the cranker remained
motionless in his hands.
"Major," he said with shining eyes,
"there's another machine coming-one of
ours-to give the Boches fight"
THE cantonment was situated in a
l. spreading valley. On one side The hills
which dominated il were wooded; on the
other side they were bare. On that side
there had once been titled ields--long ago,
IN an epoch which seemed infinitely re-
moved, lost in the shadows Of time-be-
fore the war. The French machine lad
mounted like sparrow hawk from some
hiding place in the dark, rnotionless woods.
II resembled a hawk, bird Of prey, rapid
and direct, intrepid and slender. So very
slender! Much smaller than the enemy,
who had not seen il coming at first and
now attempted 10 escape. like wild duck
or heron which fees before falcon
EMBODIED by the hunter.
pIt a. . ne,y ,nodclO cried the chauffeur