Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1918-03-12

outskirts of the city. where the re-
fusees from the Hun destroyed viii
lagos are housed. found as many
as ten in one room-grandmother
mother. and children. With food and
stove supplied. this was luxury COM
pared with life In their ruined village
but with the shortage OF coal through
out France this winter, there is great
suffering. l fear. in those bleak bar
racks in Nancy.
The old women make sandbags for
the trenches. One told me she had
made so in a day. The children at
tend school. the boys learning trades
the girls domestic science. that they
may look out for themselves later on
as most of them are orphans. An
American fund in Paris hopes to send
q Christmas present this year TO ev-
cry one OF these 1000 homeless chill
dren. I asked them to sing and So
sad-eyed little ones stood up and
piped, Aux morris pour Ia Patrie."
could not keep back the tears.
II talked with a young woman who
was very III and learned she had been
at work in a munition factory in an
other part OF France. have seen as
many as 5000 women in one OF these
vast arsenals. and frail girls carry
ing weights which only strong men
should lift. Yet glory with them In
their sacrifice. The women OF France
have shown us the way. Unframed
women who have never before rolled
a bandage face unflinchingly the
most grewsome wounds in their hos
pital service: to release men for the
trenches they perform the most
menial tasks, such as removing town
garbage. Service and unity. This is
the keynote Of France.
81 left the children playing in the
great open square of the barracks and
motored back to town. My automo-
bile was driven by a soldier chauffeur.
had just remarked that this was the
most perfect weather had known
In France when the tocsin shrilled its
warning. The soldier stopped the
car. jumped Off and help me out
and we all bolted for the nearest
house with the big Lorraine cross. An
old man opened the door and many
other people rushed in with us. We
had barely reached the celler steps
when the first crash came.
81 have never heard anything as
ominous as the sound OF those Titan
ic shells. each crushing out homes
and human beings. There were q
of us in the cellar. our aged host and
the soldier the only men. One little
boy held dog in his arms and a
girl of ten grasped q cage with n pet
canary.
1--WE sat on boxes. There was a
light, and over in one corner saw
keg and n sack. evidently contain
ing water and food; and q pickax.
How. wondered. could we dig our
way out with that one pickax, should
the house be struck! There was an
agonized expression on the faces OF
some of the women whose children
were not with them. Madame hirman
tried to tighten the strain by telling
how her baby girl had wakened, as
they carried her down to the cellar
the night OF the last bombardment.
looked about and said, sleepily. EN-
core! The bad Boche!"
"By my wrist watch the shells fell
every seven minutes. The lombard
ment lasted three quarters Of an
hour, and we remained in the cellar
for some time after the last crash.
which sounded much nearer than the
others. We wanted to be sure the
French guns he'd temporarily -ailsncs
ed the foe. In the postoffice, later, /
had a near-view of a shell OF the $50
"A mammoth affair: q little larger
but not as pointed nor as graceful
in outline as the French $40 on ex-
hibition beside II.
when we reached the street. boys
were already flying kites, hoping to
rival the planes overhead. Lorrain-
ese children have become accnstom-
ed to bombardments.