Grand Forks herald., 1918-08-28
CHAPTER 1.
/ Joan tl,c Colors.

| e O@0u Sk1C NUlUI0s
Some Of my buddies have the super
snhous belief that destiny picked me
to fire the first gun for the United
States in the war against the Hun.
Personally, take very little stock
IN destiny. fate or any Of those things
OF the occult >around which serti-
mental, half.baked rovelists like to
weave impossible yarns.
According to my UNDERSTANDING Of
the case. was selected to send Uncle
Sans hrst shell message to the Kaiser
because put in many weeks Of hard
training. and got to knew every twist
and wrinkle in the disposition and
temperament Of my French seventy
fve.
But. just to give the rornanticists a
little consolation. will concede that
come OF race Of red-headed,
freckled faced fighters, and am proud
Of It.
My father Walter de varila, was a
United States cavalry scout in the
early seventies, and helped to round
up the Apaches in Arizona.
Dad was q red-head, and had
1reckles as big as copper cents. He was
nshter. and a good one, too, as
United States army records will show.
Hemmed In by savages, while on one
OF his scouting expeditions, he cut
his way out in a running fight. using
! two Colts revolvers to excellent ad-
vantage. The Indians dubbed him
Red the Brave"
side fought for. the confederacy under
General "Stonewall' Jackson; he had
hair like FURNISHED copper. My moth
ers father served the union under
Grant.
There was a red-haired De varila
with Mad Anthony" Wayne when he
stormed Stony Point. and a pair Of
sorrel-topped, lusty De Varilas deliv-
cred hamn1er-b blows for democracy Of
lution.s "
Every one Of these fighting De Va
r1las had freckles as we'll as red hair
God bless them all!
| MY mother was Of Irish descent and
my father French.
Now you need wonder no longer
why love to fight when the fighting
10 good. When you get a French and
irish combination, and breed it for
several generations on the stimulat-
ing soil of the good old United States
you are bound to produce something
mat absolutely refuses to let George
90 IT, when there is a scrap on deck
Tho Fighting Lust.
~. was HALocH years Ola Wn0n Ine
Kaiser and his gang Of international
burglars set out to crack the safes Of
the nations Of the world, and revive
the chain-gang methods Of the unholy
old Roman empire.
I wanted to get into It then, honest
I did, although had just blossomed
out IN my first suit of long trousers
and was proudly wearing my first
! dollar watch.
My hair always has a habit Of brist-
ling like cats tail when I scent q
scrap, and when the Kaiser started
to reach through Belgium to get at
the throat Of France, I could feel that
red alfalfa. Of mine crinkle all over.
The hair Of some folks bristles
when they get scared. 1t is just the
opposite with me- When mine starts
to Me up. I'm just fighting mad. Ny
mother has told me that it was always
that way with the De varilas.
MY buddies In the battery over in
France used to get lot Of fun watch
Ing my hair when got real warmed
up with my French sevepty-five gun,
and was pumping shells into the boche
first-ltne trenches. They found the
effect particularly startling one day
when, in the height Of a battle, put
on my gas mask. After that, they
called me ''The Little Red Devil"
But that is pushing ahead Of the
yarn.
AS I started to say. felt the old De
varila fighting itch when the German
enough 1ssaa sssiu snrn,nr b,a1t hi. ct;ss Tay
blowing up villages and killing wom-
en- and children.
| Maybe 1t was the blood Of some Of
those French ancestors stirring in me
and urging me to do something for
France. but more liRe1y It was that
Irish and French.
I stood 1t as long as I could, and
then I told my mother I was going to
Canada to enlist L let her know +
thought it was a disgrace for a fight
ing De VarilA to be wasting his time
going to school while a bunch of
! boodlin1 Huns were running, loose
over Belgium and France. and doing
murder by the wholesale.
Mothers Wiles.
I could see that she liked to hear
me talk that way, for there were tears
in her eyes, and she gave me one of
fthose warm motherly smiles that
makes an American boy in his first
long trousers feel that he has sud
denly grown three inches taller and
is a man. But, Of course. did not
realize then that no sensible mother
is going to enthuse very much about
sending a fifteen-year-ol son into
the gore Of battle.
But she understood her boy all
right, and didn't argue with me. She
snaked a freshly baked mince pie out
Of the oven, and told me to scoot to
the back steps and gorge myself. It
was a mighty good pie Of the mother
used -to-make kind, and in the eating
almost forgot about the Kaiser and
the Belgians.
A few months after mother had
camoufaged the De varila fightink
itch with mince pie, was packed of
to prep school at Los Angeles.
found tho school a regular incu-
bator for tho war spirit. u
There were a couple Of English lads
there who received frequent letters
from relatives in the thick 6f the