Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1917-09-27
The Bomb and the Web.
From the London Daily Mall.

From the London Daily Mail.
Tive got an awfully queer sensation,
old chap, y said the young lieutenant with
the restless eyes to his friend as they sat
in the dugout by the light Of a flaring
tin lamp.
$50 have I. Had one just now when q
big spider fell plop into my coffee. Tell
US yours. Have another dose?"
The other extended his hand for the
. soap box-to the table-two soap boxes.
Don't know il you'll understand
Thanks; I'll try very hard"
but I feel as though / were caught
In a web. Funny you should mention
spiders Look ~here-you've seen a lot OF
seagulls wheeling and swerving over rocks
at the edge of the coast?"
Have 1 not! And don't 1 wish I could
see them at this moment!"
We'll, can you imagine what 1t would
be like If the curves of their flight be-
came visible and remained in the air
VIA a network of lines it would be?
That's what is happening to me: l see
the track left by every moving thing. All
these shells that come over leave lines
the atmosphere is full OF them. And I'm
caught In this maze as though 1T was a
tough, horrible web spun by some enor-
nous spider. l can break through"
The listener slipped his coffee and re-
eoiSCo liz olIGJ Ilau HIdSetS V tilC
brim of the mug.
Feel off color, old man. he asked.
mo; I'm all right, i think. except for
that. You see, it bothers me. rather.
Whenever a car passes by it leaves a line,
and that drifts across my face and gets
mixed with the others. And there are little
thin threads, odd bits, thousands of en-
they come at every movement of your
hand-and the web thickens." lie brushed
his hand across his face with a quick
motion as If to clear his vision.
Steady. old boy said the owner of the
dugout. You'll have an attack of nerves
If you're not careful. and you're giving
me the jumps. Have a cigaret and take it
easy for an hour"
The web thickened day by day until,
bewildered, he consulted the doctor; and
the doctor, almost as bewildered, sent
him home to England for a good rest.
One sunny morning he was walking
along a street at though half blind, per-
fectly able to see with his bodily eyes,
yet the web seemed to be weaving itself
across his mind, confusing his thoughts,
laundering his whole life. People, he mo-
ticed, were looking at the sky; he also
gazed upward mechanically.
Across that sunlit summer heaven a
fleet of airplanes was sailing, calmly.
soundlessly, deliberately. A charming
spectacle, he thought. and how excellently
they kept their battle formation! Then a
sound so familiar abroad, so strange in
London, gave him a sudden thrill-the
rumble Of gunfire and the velvety pop
pop-pop of bursting s%hrapnel; and look
ing more steadily he perceived dozens OF
tiny woolly smoke balls softly uncurling
against the blue.
So this was one of the 'air raids his
friends had written about, Oblivious, IN
deed half contemptuous of possible dam
ger, he watched that deadly, damnable
advance, so cool, so dignified, so uncon-
cerned: watched the silvery threads that
the slow planes spun in his brain drift
down across his vision; felt them join the
shroud that enclosed him. So
Crash after crash Numbered nearer, and
only then, so used was he to the noisy
hazard of war, did he think Of shelter.
And as he moved to a doorway there
was a terrific explosion, a vivid flame
and he was thrown violently down and
almost unned
In less than a minute he was helping
in the work Of rescue, comforting fright
ened children, caring for the wounded.
But at the pack of his mind was a sense
of %elation, of profound gladness, of peace.
For the web was broken, torn into float
ing %tatters; his mind was clear, his vision
free, his long agony of oppression past.
Wilfrid I. Randell..