The Seward gateway and the Alaska evening post., 1917-09-01

THE FIELD, Aug. D, (By Mall).- People can get used to anything, even to this business of war Were it not so, those who have to keep on killing Germans month in and month out would go mad and bite somebody.
 Today was out among the guns pounding the Germans to pieces in the nciglbolhood of Lens. 1t was tea time. Overhead seven British planes were wirging past on their way to a wrestling match with the enemy in the clouds. Now and then a six-inch shell exploded in the vicinity of the Brit ish batteries.
 Under a scrap of canvas serving as shelter from the midsummer sun, sut a Canadian major, commander of a battery of howitzers. He was bare headed On wooden hand grenade packing case was a cup of tea. By it ,ay d slice of buttered bread. The major wae in his shirt sleeves. In his hands was a book and a copying lead pencil Jotting down something in the book. the major laid it face down on the case and took up the slice of but tered bread, bit off a mouthful and chewed away foI some thirty seconds, then called out t) one of his gun crews nearby: Number two! Four seven five nine"
 No. 2 lifted huge shell into the howitzer's breech, closed and locked the breech lock; sighted and stood by, one of the men holding the laniard taut in his right hand. In his left he held a piece of bread. Swallowing a gulp of tea the major picked up his gunnery book again and casually or dered: "Number one! Fire" The howitzer next to No. ? believed so the country round about echoed and rock ed to it's thunder. The major set down some figures and refreshed himself with more tea and bread. "Hey, Bill" sang out the gunner of No. 1 crew.
 "Whatcher want now?" an ammu- milton tender growled. He was busy chewing and opening a can of some sort of timed food "Where's that jam?" said the laniard chap. Jam ?" oueried Bill as he worked away. "What jam? You mean the rhubarb jam?" "Naww replied the lanierder, "not the rhubarb jam; the strawberry jam. Pm fed up on that stringy rhu- barb jam"
 "Number onew bawled out the ma ior. "Six nought five three' Then after a swallow from the enameled cup: "Number Two! Fire" Num- Der two blazed away and huge shell tore through the air screaming in ter rifying fashion and likely enough it found its mark and tore to shreds a dozen dupes of the Kaiser, "Yes," ," said the Canadian gunner who had pulled the trigger, "that was certainly some game! Two men out, man on third score tied and the ninth inning. Old Ty Cobb was at the bat with two strikes on him. Ty whaled away at it and
 "Number Two" shouted the officer. "Four seven five eight" Then: By Godfrey!" he murmured to himself, wonder wherein the h-l they got this butter!" Number One! Fire" And again the howitzer shivered ard leaped, and as the recoil threw it back into position, Bill came up with a tin plate in his hand. "Here, sour-face," he said to the laniard puller, there's your bloomin' jam. Shall fetch you a finger bowl ?"
 And so the manslaughter went on. Dispassionately and as coolly these men feed and fire their howitzers. When lunch time comes they may let off work for a time and eat it com fortably, sitting on pile of shells, any one of which contains enough ex- plosive to blow up the Woolworth building. Or, if for any reason it is necessary to keep on firing, the gun ners eat and talk and fire the guns without pause.