New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1917-09-16
Euschingen, Alsacc,
Anrnst 10. 1917

Enschlngen, A!sacc,
Angus. 49, 1914.
long march in the fog. The three or
four men Of the regiment who had provided
themselves with waterproof capes at Roanne
declare that they would prefer good
shower We see nothing from the road but
what you can see from a trench-a slope
parapet. But the cannonading becomes so
violent that the fog lifts. The cannon, IN
stead Of bringing rain, have continued 70
take after those provincial guns OF ours
which drive off thunder ard hail from the
vineyards. Since Bellcmagny my comrades
have known how 10 read and recognize the
word "schule," and in every village their
sole interest is the schoolhouse. Indeed, at
Lower Burnhaupt the question arises as TO
whether the seven children in the court
yard, who look exactly alike, are the scnooi-
masters sons or his pupils
Rather a dull landscape, for the sad
shades o; the gaycst colors prevail: yellow
ochrc for roofs and tiles, dark green for
meadows and leaves-even the grass has an
air of immortality. Only the Vosges, on
our left, arc transparent. We march on
till night, and as the wind changes so the
battle seems TO change its place sharply
like a hunt. | have Probart for a neighbor;
he comes from the same little town as my
self. and talks to me, as usual, of the
quarrel between the Larostes and the Fer
lands. The letters he gets bring fresh de-
tails: the Larostes no longer bow to the
Ferlands, and yet--hcre's the riddle-N.
Ferland, senior, keeps on bowling 20 young
Nine. Laroste
At o'clock, sudden stop. Ten minutes,
quarter of an hour, pass. We make a
great fuss. but the road is not clear. 4
near-sighted captain Of the General STAFF
arrives at a gallop, asks for the colonel and
looks for him in my squad. show him
about and learn that fighting il in progress
in the direction OF Flaxlanden, southeast OF
Mulhouse; that four companies are to adj
vance, four remaining in reserve, and that
ours, the twentieth, will be one Of those TO
march. Then | 60 back to Frobart, who
wants to hear all about it.
"What battle is it we are to fight" he
asks
THE battle OF FlaXlarden."
His Tnpronounceab!e Battle
lie find, the name OF his battle not a.
all easy % pronounce; he wants to know.
too, if it is a combat or real battle; II
they're fighting in the village ITSELF or in
the neighboring region. l can enlighten
him or one point: it is surely battle.
From .hc interstices Of the convoy pour
out colonies with brassards, who are think
ing OF their sons at Saint-Cyr and keeping
an anxious eye out for wheel-grcase; and
hard on their heels comes that lieutenant
in olive d.ab-the division psymastcr-whom
the whole French army has taken for Light
nfantryman all through August. The COM
missariat trucks are Fastening - the rear
in thoroughly undigniied manner. In the
company, too, wild confusion.
We are lGe mob of actors or whom
the curtain has risen one minute too soon;
we suddenly realize that We none OF us
know our places in the fray. Sergeant ma
iors dig theories out Of their knapsacks
The drummcrs and buglers come and at
tach themselves TO each company in turn,
with the air OF giving it present, and
are sent off again to the next company. with
abusive language. The adjutants order Us
to hang our Identification tags around our
necks, on the pretext that they are a pro-
lection to the chest, and that our arms
might be blown off; and they number the
men in each squad in series, so that We
may know who is in command in case the
leader is wounded. Frobart has no chance
OF commanding, unless he is left quite b.
himself, and Artaud will have only Frobart
under his orders.
The order comes. We start off in the
direction of Bcrnwiller.
Halt!
The order is left face-face in the drec-
ton that We supposed to be safe. And we
are, asserts the General STAFF, under artl-
lery fire. They maze US retire to the ditch.
Two extra yards of safety
Eight o'clock. The day is dying tonight
without having grown old. The twilight is
opaque, no thicker and no more transparent
in one place than in another. II is impos-
sible to guess where the sun has set, but
the French army, which is so poor at get
ting the points of the compass, won't be
the worse for that tonight All the stars,
white and dead as the atmosphere. make