Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1918-11-14

Chateau Thierry," repeatedS
marine officer and smiled at me pity
ingly. Eyes, that was interesting a
month ago. A Boche potted me there
and I'm just going back to join my
men. But you won't find it interesting
now. All the Germans are gone"
But he was wrong. There are Ger
mans marching through the streets of
Chateau-Thierry every day German
prisoners armed with shovels and
picks who are cleaning out the wreck
age and desolation they left in their
path when they evacuated the city on
July %; proud Prussians who are
welding scythes to harvest the crops
in the fields that they called "Unser-
land" month ago; mild-faced boys
from the south Of Germany who seem
to prefer Jobs as chore-women with
mops and scrub brushes to carrying
guns for the kaiser.
And as for the interest of Chateau
Thierry, the curious have visited the
field Of Napoleon's Waterloo for sew
eral centuries. They will visit the Wa
terloo Of the Boche march on Paris in
1918 for several more centuries and
thrill with every century at the story
| of the battle on the outskirts of that
city where American marines, artillery
and infantrymen started the Huns on
their run for Berlin-and gave them
such good start that the goal is get
ting hotter each day.
War Activity Everywhere.
It takes just an hour and half by
rail from Paris to reach the outpOsts
of the battleields Of yesterday; an
hour and a half that runs by like the
fast reels Of cinema with hurried
glimpses of passing trains loaded with
horses with cattle, with big guns and
men; of camions crowded with sol
diers wearing dust-colored uniforms /;
Of hospital trains marked with red
crosses and groups Of civilians hurry
ing back to see what is left of their
homes in the reconquered districts. At
one of the stations the marine officer
swung off to join knot of men whose
backs were loaded with marching
equipment, showing that they were
going "up the line" War was written
in large letters over every human ac-
tivity, but off to my right was the
Marine, sleepy and peaceful, flowing
quietly through valley fields, hiding
behind gentle slopes covered with
wheat and splashed with vivid peoples,
and emerging again from clump of
thick trees and heavy underbrush.
1 At La Ferte there is great cash
in the station where Boche plane,
swooping down within few hundred
yards Of the mark, dropped half
dozen bombs just few nights ago.
And from there an auto road, peck
marked by shell holes, runs through
fertile country and pink-roofed vii.
lagos, lifeless and deserted, to Lucy
le-Bocage and Belleau woods, where
the American marines showed the
world just what fighting stuff the
United States army is made of.
/ Lucy keeps open house for all
corners. There are few doors left
In the village, but they sag heavily or
rusted hinges. Windows are oper
spaces through which the winds and
rains drive at will, leaving facetious
puddles about the little heaps Of
broken glass that strew the ground
The few roofs left look apologize II
the midst Of the ruin about them.
The village huddles about a little
church that has been pitilessly bat
tered to ruin. Only bits Of the walls
are left but in the midst of thu
wreckage rises tall crucifx un
scratched. The altar Of the small
chapel on the right side had beer
= cleared off and the old able, toilin,
alone, was searching among the de
bris for precious relics. A praye
book and q few pathetic little orna
ments of glass were all that he ha,
found to restore in his temple.
Guarded by the Dead.
From Lucy-le-Bocage to Bellea1
wood the road literally is guarded b,
the dead, whose bodies We're covere,
{ where they fell and marked by simpl
! wooden crosses on many of which tn
soldiers trench helmet has been hung
I. was the way Of the cross for tn