The Glasgow courier. [volume] (Glasgow, Mont.) 1913-current, 1918-03-29
THE GLASGOW COURIER

sinai but it had been carefully point
e q with soap in lieu OF wax. ne
wanted a leg Switch will benz, sc l
MAY drive again" His story was a
bit different.
Two of us were taken prisoner at
Maticourt. Wounded? on, no, MON.
s,eur. Both of strong unh9rt
though it had been a marc DAY. we
were just unlucky ones-that was an;
we were only two, and OF Wnat good
are Just two prisoners? only g1 %
to be shot, what, Monsieur! we
thought SO. But other prisoners ar
rived-that saved us, no doubt, yes
Monsieur? In Germany we were not
too unhappy, but there was not enough
quarry because we were strong. One
day q great block fell on my leg.
That is all. When l could no longer
be used for work l was sent back with
many others all like me. And here l
am, Monsieur. l can still X am
still very strong-all save my leg:
MY arm is steadv-see. Monsieur !
can drive well, I think, Monsieur. Will
get q new leg if you inL my papers
and everything ere al correct! l.
hope SO, Monsieur. hav. a wife !,
Bordeaux do not want that n
should do all the work although h
away"
One soldier came INTO the bureau
with a great pride shining in ms face
despite his missing left leg, for on his
tunic were the war cross with tWo
palms across the ribbon, and the mil
itary medal. It could not be- said that
he was very shy. One of his first
acts was to draw from his pocket and
show to the bureau chief his citation
for the medaille militaire. 1t read:
"Jeune soldat brave ct courageaIx.
S'est montre energique ct plein dem
train a ~l'attaque de combat. A etc tres
grievement blesse."
"A cooper, I am, Monsieur, from
near Epernay. l was at the Marine
and came through without a scratch.
My leg-ah, Monsieur, that was later,
the Chemin des Danes, Monsieur" He
said this with all the pride in the
world. ut was a sudden blow-and
l knew no more till ! awoke with the
pain in a hospital station where | was
dressed. What can l do? Anything
Monsieur, that a man with only one
leg a do . No, l do not want to be
a cobbler. I want to be a cooper
again. want to be able to walk
around and round, but comfortable,
Monsieur. Can it be? l have no
wife, only an old father-but he is
happy. He is a carter in u little
town. He must not be the only one
to work."
Two farmers followed, one with the
military medal on his coat. He had
been in the heavy artillery and had
lost a left leg when a shell fell upon
left, Monsieur" he said simply, "and
am not much more than half a man
now. But l have children, Monsieur
it is necessary to work for them
otherwise there is nothing-my wife
died the first year of the war. It is
hard on some Of US, Monsieur, I never
knew she was dead for three months.
The children are with my mother
and they look at me, is it not 50. l
have promise of work at Rouen, where
my uncle is a wine merchandise will
give me one of the big carts to drive
if l can learn to get in and out Of It
easily. If ! had a leg that could
bend here when l want it, all would
be well for me. l used to have a good
one till a hand grenade shattered it."
These are the narratives they re-
late, not in the running way in which
they must appear in written words,
but haltingly, after much questioning
and with long pauses for thought
They seem to seek to keep the hope
lessness out of their voices and al
are so willing to work. Those whose
: references and military papers arr
. found to be in good order are fur
nished with an order for the leg the!
, desire. And as, with a quick, precise
, salute, and the signed order CAREFUL!
buttoned in an inner pocket the.
stump their way out of the bureau
: there is, perhaps, more hope ant
cheerfulness in their hearts than the,
: had ever thought there would be.