The evening Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1918-1920, 1918-10-19
DON MARTINS
GREAT STORY OF
GALLANT SOLDIER
One of the Remarkable EX-
plOits of the War
.Vividly Told
BRILLIANT CAVALRY
WORK OF AMERICANS
Read This Story and Then
Buy Another Bond

The cables announced recently the
death of Don Martin, the brilliant
war correspondent of the New York
Herald. here is one of his last sto-
ries of the heroism of a gallant SOL
der:
"Rat-tat- tat! Rat-tat-tat-tat!" sang
the German machine guns. The
Yankee soldier: who had been peering
over the top of the American trench
across the Vesle river tumbled back
into the arms of his comrades. Just
above the brim of his helmet was
tiny hole.
"Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!" chuckled
the Hun machine guns.
The company commander swore;
the soldiers muttered curses against
those carefully hidden machine gun
nests. Some of them gathered in
the doorway of the dugout into which
had been carried the soldiers body.
They were brushed aside by physi-
clan, who took one look at the khaki
clad young figure stretched on rude
table. He hardly examined the form.
What was the use? In the center of
the white forehead of that upturned
young face was a blot of scarlet.
One Of the soldier lads, looking
down into the dugout from its door
way, was weeping. He was quite a
young solder, that American, and
war was very new to him. The dead
man had been his closest friend.
Other sold ers, although more cal
loused to Ceath, respected his tears.
Some of them had been in the
trenches fol. months. Another mans
head drilled by a machine gun bullet?
Well, this was war. What could one
expect?
One of them mounted his helmet
on his bayonet and cautiously stuck
it above tho trench top.
Rat-tat- tat !" Rat-tattat-tat .
chanted The German machine guns.
Darn" said the soldier.
"Makes the third helmet they've
bored this morning." nodded another
Yankee, leaning on his rifle. "Two
of the helmets had heads in 'em
Those Boches have the range, the
aim, and We can't seem to locate the
nests. Say, what did you want tc
spoil your new tin hat for? You
knew they'd get it."
"Whcn's the artillery going to get
busy?" asked he of the Inflated hel
met.
"When they get the location o.
those Hun batteries and machine
guns" answered the other.
"Nnd when1l that be-"
when the cavalry or sharpshoot
ers find Out"
Down il the dugout the compan!
commander was growing an order tt
his orderly at the telephone.
"Send it in CODE" said he, 9Th,
Huns may have tapped our wires
Say that half dozen machine gul
nests have tied us up in the trenche
here. Tell them that unless the 10
cation of the Hun batteries IS give
our artillery, we're going to lose NOR
men,"
Half an hour later a runner dashe
up to n cavalry captain surrounde
by his troop, far back of the Amer
lean lines. AS he read the captai
Strengthened in his saddle. Then hi
eyes flashed as they swept his detacr
ment.
"Companee, Atten-shunw he con
manded. "Men," he continued, &
bunch of machine gun nests, north c
the Yankee lines across the river,
worrying our boys a lot. Our arti
lery lacks the location of the Hu
batteries. Volunteers wanted to sp
out those nests"
Lieutenant w. r. Baldwin, who's
home is ut No. POI Lark street, A
bany, n. Y, spurred his mount TO
ward. Behind him came half doze
troopers. Young men they wer
men who Il few months past locke
eagerly upon life as a glorious thin
we'll worth the living Now the
were volunteering for the perform
ance of the deadliest of mission
They felt that some of them wou
never come back, but what of tha
Voluntee 5 were wanted, and was
not the duty OF Americans 10 Volu
teer when came the call?
Lieutenant Baldwin was placed
command of the little detachment
men willing to ride with death to a
the American infantry. He di
mounted, frightened his saddle gir
and saw to his pistol and carbine.
saw that his men carefully imitat
him. too, and then he swung into t
saddle. His captain was watchir
pride in his eyes. Baldwin and
men saluted and there burst a che
from the troopers left behind. TIL
away cantered the volunteers, spr
and brides iingling. saddles crea
inc, the morning sunlight fiashil
glinting from rifles and sabers.
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