The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1918-11-21

war business now from the front lines
to the base hospitals, where many of
these poor wrecks, once vigorous men,
are finally buried.
| made two trips by auto from the
fighting area to Paris to get medical
supplies, cable money home for Off
GERS and men, order supplies to come
up later and do a thousand otnei
things for the personnel of the unit.
Both trips were delightful. On one
| stopped at Veaux and viewed the
interior of the wonderful cathedral,
at another | stopped at an aeroplane
camp and saw the machines, one af-
ter the other, rise like birds and sail
off over the enemy lines. One day
here is like a month of ordinary life.
One Sunday morning | took my ma
chine and driver and transported Cap
tain Reed, with a box of fresh dough-
nuts. daily papers and supplies to the
advance artillery posts before the
Fismes front. 1t was a wonderful day.
On the way we visited a number of
lltiu IOSDlldlS anu Amy tOlllilldlluc,
and saw one ruined village after an
other. Here on the right on a lonely
hillside was the battered remains of
a French aeroplane, with the grave
of the aviator beside it, there On the
left the remnants of a German bat
terry smashed by an Allied shell, and
all along the road grave beside grave,
Allied and German, each with a little
wooden cross and the identification
disc tackled to it. There were heaps,
row on row, of German ammunition,
guns, war material of all kinds, aban-
doned by the Boche in his fight, the
roads filled with marching men and
over all the dust Of the long trains of
transports carrying food for men,
horses and guns.
In the hollows occasionally the
stencil of the dead offended the nos
trils, and on the hillsides and in the
woods the pup tents and army can
vases showed through the green of
the mass Of the trees. The country
looks like that in Minnesota between
Glyndon and Lake Park, a lonely
landscape.
When we passed through Charney
we DETECTED to the right to visit
the grave of Lieutenant Quentin
Roosevelt. 1t is situated on a lovely
little plateau between rolling hills. A
few feet from the grave the level
space drops to a ravine below and
outs where German machine guns
took their stubborn toll of American
lives.
The Germans buried this poor lad
with his face toward the west, toward
home, and marked the grave, Lieut.
Quentin Roosevelt, died on the Field
of Honor, July 14th, 1918" The
Americans have also marked the
grave. The %aeroplane has been re-
moved from the scene of his fall, but
the two battered wheels mark the
head Of the grave and two steel shafts
from the motor mark the foot.
At G~raveny the Germans were she'll
ing the woods with high explosives a
few blocks from where we stood. We
went beyond this place a few miles,
about three or four miles from Fismes,
the farthest line, but the Germans
were Smelling the road so badly we
were stopped and were obliged to de.
post our supplies to be taken up at
night. Here two large sausage bal
looms were in the air and as we stood
below them two German planes dove
were quickly drawn to earth. while the
anti-aircraft guns threw great balls Of
shrapnel into the air around the en-
envy machines.
On the way back from the front
there was more Smelling and always
the steady roar of the guns, the ex-
plosion of our own artillery and the
louder crash the German shells. AS
we got past Graveny or u return
trip W. saw opposite another balloon
and at that moment two German ma
chimes volplaned down from a cloud.
We heard the rat-a-tat of their ma
chine guns and almost instantly the
great gas bag vas converted into a
great cloud of white. greyish smoke,
and the enemy machines scared away
north, with the puffs of shrapnel about
them until they finally faded into the
sky. A most wonderful sight.
On the way home we passed train
after train Of transports, battery af-
ter battery of artillery, weary troops
of men marching to or from the front
lines, knots Of Boche prisoners, with
sullen faces and tired, dropping heads
and now and then an ambulance full
Of wounded would be overtaken, the
men weak, bloody, listless, all the sad
procession Of war. No one shouted,
no one smiled, and owe all hung the
yellow dust of the Marine valley.
When l reached our camp in the
evening, dirty and tired. 1t seemed a
very human, homelike place, and /
hustled over to officers mess, glad to