The Bridgeport times and evening farmer. (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1918-1924, 1918-01-21

/
ing in an attitude of attention, his
heels together and in line, his toes
out at an angle of As degrees, his legs
braced up and head and eyes looking
much more than his own height.
He had to look up to see the bayou
ct which was fixed to the rifle that
leaned against the wall. He was
very small man, too small for khaki
and the appointments of a soldier.
He wore a khaki tunic which was
much too long; it hid his baggy trous-
ers. and its sleeves fell over his out
stretched fingers. The puttees which
he wore rolled down from his calves
and clustered in several loops round
his sabots.
He wore his khaki cap, back to
front, which was very handy, for in
that way the vizor did not fall. over
his eyes and blot the whole world
from his sight And his hair fell down
in clusters over his neck and stuck out
in wisps round his ears.
In short, he was improperly dress
ed, a most disreputable soldier, utter
ly untitled for parade ground, and
hardly possible as a soldier in the
back area, where a certain laxity in
dress was pardonable.
But he never got into trouble for
a shortening like this. Privates
raised their hands to their caps when
they met him; a sergeant, most
strict disciplinarian, too, once gave
his squad the order, eyes right" to
this little man in khaki. Report had
it that a General on his way through
the village saluted the little man in
passing.
The name of the little soldier was
Marius his age was seven, and his
country was France. His mother liv-
ed in the village, his father had been
killed at the front.
The British soldiers loved him;
they liked to be billeted in his moth
er's house, and they always gave him
presents and de1icacies from the lat
est parcels from home. Little Marius
was a sturdy column in the structure
of the Entente.
Now that the soldiers were outside
most of them in a neighooring cafe
having a final drink before leaving
for the trenches, Marius was taking
stock of the attic billet, his mind
stepped in reflection.
Everything there attracted him
the rifles and bayonets, the entrench-
! ing tools and the ammunition pouches.
If he were a big man he could carry
all these and swing up the road at
night and come back at dawn.
Would he ever become big like
those men, those English soldiers? He
often thought the problem out, and
once he asked his mother about it.
} But her answer did not please him.
She simply cried and Rugged him to
, her breast, and Marius did not like
| this 1t was not becoming a man, a
, man in khaki whom the soldiers sal
} uted, to be cuddled like that.
He was a child born to war. War
| had ragged around his head since the
: beginning of things; but the world in
t which he lived was very interesting
one He had seen his father go away
with others, marching off with his
J rifle over his shoulder. But that was
such a long time ago, and he had al
most forgotten it.
: Then, one day-and he remember
ed this vfvidly-a letter came to his
mother, and when she read it she
cried for Z, long while and kissed her
son as if she were never going to stop.
: Then she went out into the street and
shook her hand at the East where the
Germans held their lines.
Marius watched her do this and it
; fascinated him. When she came back
he asked her to do it again. But she
would not; instead she looked re-
l proachfully at him and kissed him.
"Our father is dead" she said, and
. wept afresh.
Soldiers often came to the village
l French soldiers first, and after that
= other men who were dressed differ
Y cnt and spoke in a language which
l he could not understand. They al
t ways came to the place singing at the
e top of their voices.
e Marius liked these soldiers, and he
r was glad when they biIleted at his
e home. They used to give him sweets
e and cakes and badges and buttons.
e But one thing they did not give him,
y and it was for this he longed most of
! all. A chapeau Boche! He saw men
" come into the village wearing them,
, and they never sung so heartily as
Y they did then.
They seemed to treasure these Ger
man helmets more than their lives.
, They wore them when walking out in
the evenings, and the girls of the
place crowded around the wearers
! Men without them were passed by in
silence, but the one who wore a cha
= peau Boche was welcomed every
where.
Marius came to know that certain
e things had to happen before these
= came to the village. On the night
n preceding the day on which the he'll
. NETS came in any number the sky had
to be lit by red flames, and the big
: shells had to burst across the world.
Another thing, too-and Marius did
not like this at all-he had to sleep
! in the cellar with his mother. When
, on the next day, when the boys came
in singing they brought any amount
I of helmets with them,
And a chapeau Boche was all that
q the boy wanted now. If he had one
he could be happy and proud-and
-. maybe a little vain. But this was not
. to be wondered at, and a proud Mar
= Jus under a chapeau Boche struttins
= along the village street could be for.
given his moment of vanity
: But now his desires seemed in a
s. fair way toward being realized. Three
q men were billeted in his home now,
and these he loved and admired with
g all the passion of his childish heart
One was an Irishman, a. other a
Il Cockney, and the third a Devon man
), Even now as he thought of them in
the attic there was a clatter on the
It stairs and the three men entered the