The Bridgeport times and evening farmer. (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1918-1924, 1918-04-09

when they lifted us out they took
US to the field stations by another
route than that over which we had
charged. 1 was not so badly wound
ed but what l could see about me,
and believe me, I'll never forget the
sight. 1t was not so much the awful
scene of desolation and wreckage
that impressed me as the number of
German dead especially at one spot
This was in and around a certain
bit of trench where our gunners had
done some of their best work
How well they had done it was ap-
parent from the number of dead
In one section of the field which
had already been bridged for the
convenience of the ambulance men,
the bodies were heaped one upon an
other. The place was literally
choked with them. 1t was like cross
ing bridge of dead men.
What had happened, I suppose,
was that the whole population Of one
of their enormous dug-outs had tried
to escape from our barrage-and had
failed.
AT any rate, there they were.
They had fought their last fight for
the Fatherland.
But this desert of the dead, as you
might call it, was soon a living pulls
ing plain again. We had not gone
far along the roads, or what remained
of roads, until we saw the vanguards
of our great army coming up.
What Is A Casualty?
Unless one has seen it one can
form no conception of the size and
mobility of that army. Navvies were
already mending the roads, railway
men were already extending the rail-
ways, the guns were being shifted, a
whole nation in arms it seemed, was
on the march
For exactly four weeks from that
day 1 was a Casualty and being a
casualty is the most unpleasant thing
that can happen to man in France.
OF course when I say Casualty I
mean the kind of injury 1 had got.
You are bad enough to stay in the
Field Hospital. but not bad enough
to be shipped back to England on
an III. M. s."
But there was one bright side to
| a Field Hospital. 1t is like spending
your entire time in a cosmopolitan
club. At the Field Hospital you see
all sorts Of slightly wounded, and
! many severely wounded ones, too
heroes of many battles. If you are
lucky enough to be able to hobbIe
| on your bum leg, you make visits
from one cot to another and at the
| expense of a cigarette or a pipeful
of tobacco you will hear stories, true
real, living stories that will do you
| more good than all the dope" the
| doctors can fill you with.
| Just half dozen such stories cur
| ed that bum leg of mine in quick
time.
| Here is one of them that an Amer
| lean told me.
Seems pretty tall order, captur.
| ing whole Hun patrol, perhaps, but
We did it!''
1 was interviewing an American
who had voluntarily crossed the At.
lantic to take a hand in strafing the
Fritzies. He had been through som.
| VI I1lC lIlOsl 1SCSul llSulluS. ADOuL
main feature he would say very lit
tie, except to sum it up in a phrase
| more forcible than polite, but abou
the preliminaries to the fighting HI
did not hesitate to speak, and it wa.
! while telling me of these that I elicit
i ed from him this thrilling tale O.
night adventure.
The Tale That Cured a Bum Leg
For weeks before this big smash
up" he said, Fritz was in a perfec
state of fidgets.
Every other night he was payin.
us raiding visit in the hope of haul
ing off one or two of US, but it wa
no good. Fritz is poor hand a
the game.
He is either too noisy or too frigh
tened, when a scrap develops
i Anyway, when he did come owe
Il we generally managed to turn the ia
bles on him.
) Where we lay. the German line
would be few hundred yards off
the ground between us was hum
mocky, and bad, and down in tn
: hollows there were sticky swamps
" in and not even pleasant to fall in
, to, scrap or no scrap.
: "Of course, we knew the spot lik
} the palm of our hand and even i
the darkness we could ferret on
way about as if it were in the back
:, garden at home.
Out on a ProWI
y You've read that story about tn