Albuquerque morning journal. [volume] (Albuquerque, N.M.) 1903-1926, 1918-11-11


from the rolling kitchen in the front
yard of the chateau. Cooks who had
not closed their eyes for three nights
served coffee, bread, rice and syrup
With the smiling grace of pink-tea
aoStesses, s5
Near presence Of war became mani
fest as we plodded on toward Sivry.
The firing line was supposed to be just
beyond. Insistently the clamor of
guns grew louder. During the night
we had seen the lightning Of their
flashes on the horizon. but the reports
had been muffled by distance. How
ever, the firing, was comparatively
light, for the foe was retiring so swift
ly that the gunners were uncertain as
to his whereabouts. AS for the Ger
man shells, they were well nigh nom
existent. We counted only half a
dozen of them as we approached Siv-
ry. Two hours previously one had
| landed on house. killing an officer
and wounding twenty-five men who
had been sleeping there
Sleep In Any Quarter.
During the half hour we spent In
Sivry my companion, Frederick Smith
of the Chicago Tribune. had disap-
| peared. 1 discovered him finally
peacefully slumbering amid the debris
OF a ruined barn. A few feet away
lay dead horse. Smith said no horse
could be dead enough to keep him
awake at the stage of our ramble.
| Beyond Sivry. at the edge OF 4 shell
hole. German machine run was
| propped up, its muzzle turned toward
Its late owners, Beside II lay the body
of a boy who had oeen firing II. A
bullet from another machine gun.
perched on platform in a tree
| further along the road. had pierced
his heart. He was hugging the earth
! ing shelter from the death that was
| Inevitable.
There were many similar sights on
the way up the hill. Just south Of
| Buzancy mute witnesses of the fight
the enemy rearguards had put up in
the final effort to keep our troops off
| the Freya position. of which this
ridge forms the northern line. From
the summit there is a superb view of
the town of Buzancy and the rolling
hills beyond. ar
BY this time the rain had given
place to sunshine. and the red. brown
and yellow tints of the woods and
fields were warmly revealed. Over
head scores of planes scared against
the blue skies. Not one of them bore
the blank cross of the German fly
ers.
All day long the Boches had tried
and failed to penetrate our aerial
barrage. Through binoculars taken
from a dead Prussian officer an hour
before we caught sight of tiny figures
In olive drab advancing in single file
over the hillside.
A mile further brought us to Blu
fancy In the main street met my
old friend Charlie Sweeney-Sweeney
Of the Foreign Legion-now Major
In our army. Sweeney was command
ing a supporting battalion. He had
his post in a shack on the railroad.
but decided to 20 forward with us.
We walked through the village and
one mile and half north of Buzancy
without hearing shot. the battalion
following. This is not war;" quoth
Sweeney, "It's a paper chase The
Boches were not like this in the old
days. 49,
Finale we caught IN with the ad.
We need wave. The doughboyg were
hiking along, singing and whisslinl
unconcernedly awaiting the burst a
machine gun fire that would tell d. en-
where the enemy was lurking. A pail
OF trucks rumbled on UP the road JUS
behind them. the drivers delighted &
find themselves for the first time aN,
ually on the front line. In this fashior
we covered couple of miles. Their
we remembered that cable awaites
US many miles to the rear. We bafs
Sweeney farewell and turned baci
southward, Behind us the doughboy
moved ever onward. striding ever Ii,