The Daily Missoulian. [volume] (Missoula, Mont.) 1904-1961, 1918-03-14
Fitz Could Fight and Love, but He Could
Not Stay Dead; So He Came Back to Both


Fitzgerald was one of the London
Irish. A comrade of Flanagan and
Bowdy Benners and Spudhole and
Sergeant Snogger and the rest of them
Sometimes he remefnbered fragments
OF college education. He was fluent
IN various languages, especially those
or profanity and love. This latter he
spoke eloquently to Fiji OF the y
Farm. where he and his squad were
hilleted. Fitz was a good fighter. Yet
he had enough imagination to be
afraid. Out on listening patrol the
grass talked to him and dead faces
grinned. He kept well In front, lest
the next man come to know his fear.
And one night, carrying back to his
captain the message giving warning
of mined section of ground, he was
lost in the trenches.
Patrick MacGill. author Of 1.-THE Rat
Hole now with the London Irish
himself. tells in 1.-THE Brown Brethren, -
book of war realism George II.
Doran company, the story of Fits
adventure. Says the book:
Fitzgerald entered the communion
ton trench and hurried along, painting
as he ran. Two shells swooped over
his head, bursting with a vicious ciat =
ter on the field behind him. Others
followed. pounding at the parapet like
drunken gods. He could hear the
splinters hitting the parados with n
duh thud to the accompaniment of a
thousand rifle bullets which tore at
the suffering sandbags.
| Fitzgerald passed through one
trench crossing, then another. TIL dc
it in five minutes now,' he said, chang
Ing his rifle from one shoulder to the
other. hope the mine doesn't go up
before ! get there. Five minutes he
muttered, ri be there in five min.
Otes.'
| but Fitzgerold had miscalculatcd
At the end of five minutes he found
himself in a deserted trench. all alone
and then decided that 1t was time tc
turn back. Probably he had taken the
wrong trench At the last crossing. II,
went back for n short distance anc
came to a junction. Several trenches
crossed at this point, but the localit,
seemed new to him. He had not beer
there before.
Well I'm damned he said, ant
then added I'm lost as Well
Perhaps he had passed beyond the
British front He peered over the top
The night was quiet, scarcelyra riff.
spoke, though many star shells wer,
ablaze in the heavens and droppins
petals of flame to the dark earth
Right in front of Fitzgeralt
was ghastly heap, jumhlcd and con.
fused, a heap of dead men. The soil.
tary figures lay-some face down
wards, arms spread out. others curle,
up like sleeping dogs.
We'll, where am L. asked Fitzger
aid. Whose star shell is that, ours o.
theirs? Where's our line?
Fitzgerald leant YEARLY against tn,
wall and puzzled over many things.
If l go over the top, what hap
pens" he asked himself. Run into :
q. German patrol. maybe. or into one O
our own covering parties and They'll
shoot me on sight. II go along
trench I'll probably get into the Ger
man lines. That won't do, either. In
like rat On trap. But
must get out Of it. Yes. must &c
!, out of 1t. But how?
t suddenly Fitzgerald fancied that h
3 heard somewhere near him the shar
c snap of a rifle bolt. He turned aroun
: and scurried back to the trench whic
: he had Just left. 1t seemed quite
: distance to traverse and he slippe
over the parapet and Hoped dow