The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1918-02-19

they can patch him up until he fills
out uniform as good as new; and
the spirit of France will be in him
from his timber toes to the silver
plate on the top of his skull
Papa Guillemont, which by the way
isn't at all his name, has one lung
which whistles little, and one arm
which has to be put where he wants
it to stey, and one leg with a knot
hole in it, to say nothing of sort of
fragmentary viscera, but he's a
mighty good man nevertheless, who
demands victory. not peace! From
ruddy, with dangling medals and
bullying mustache and jolly little
eyes that twinkle.
broke out on the astounded world,
Papa Guillemont was one of the first
men to Jump inside his red pants;
gaily. The mobilization would be
over in a few weeks, and then the
grand review! 1t was not then gen
orally thought that the Germans had
planned for 40 years to make this
little dash into France, capture Paris,
demolish everything which by its
beauty and refinement was an in
suit to German llultur, exercise the
same swift terribleness on covering
London, then, in more leisurely fash
ion, cross to New York and gobble
up America. This last would be par
ticularly easy, since Won Bernstorff
had been for years spending millions
in buying up the dollar-chasing
American people, SO that at the first
Haunting of tie German flag they
would turn on their own government
and shred it to tatters. In the
meantime, CaCnada, India, Australia,
Egypt and all the other colonial pos
sessions of Great Britain, would nat
urally desert the mother country. and
so, being alone and friendless, these
would fall easy prey, also, until the
German empire, spreading and
spreading around the world, would
meet at the edges and lap over. and
the kaiser's birthday would be ma
shone.
VOLTA! Just like that!
Papa Guillemont laughs over that
piece of colossal insanity until the
tears roll down his purple cheeks.
The stupid sausages! To spend half
a century in acquiring the feeling
that they know everything in the
universe and miss the simplest knowl |
edge of all, the hearts of men!
The eyes of Papa Guillemont |
change, they burn, they snap. The |
German puff balloon, with his "ya,
va, va" had not taken into his calcu-
lations patriotism, honor, the human
soul which, since the beginning of |
creation, had gladly chosen death |
before oppression.
France rope as one man to prevent |
the first step-over on the Hohenzol- |
lern tour of the world, and, unpre-
pared as she was, upset the whole /!
German empire.
True, the first train which was
sent out to meet the invaders, and in |
which Papa Guillemont rode, found |
the station of its destination in pos
session of the Germans, and, before |
the wheels of the engine had stopped |
revolving, hail of lead was pouring |
in at the windows of all the coaches |
and practically every one of that i
first little army was slaughtered be-
feroe he had chance to get into the |
fight.
Papa Guillemont's eyes suddenly
twinkle again. He had played pos
sum! Wounded in the shoulder, and |
spattered with blood, he was piled IN
a heap for dead, and crawling out |
from amid his lifeless companions. he !
slipped away in the darkness thru !
the loosely guarded lines and limped
his way toward Paris.
In the meantime, the Army of
Paris, band of patriots who must /
be enrolled in history as the posses
sors of more than sublime heroism,
had been rushed out of the city by |
taxi, automobile. motor truck, auto
bus-e=ery sort of power. driven vehi-
Gle which could be found, and lNlf.
armed ard totally unprovisioned, had
taken up the march toward the
nemey.
The record of that forced march
is a story of acute agony. Heavily
burdened the men staggered forward
under the blazing hot sun from dawn
to dark. and from dark to dawn.
dropped from exhaustion
and crept to the roadside to die; hun
dreds died as they marched; but
those who had life in them staggered
no and on, choked with dust, faint
with hunger, perishing with thirst,
but with the cry of France on their
dry lips,
Papa Guillemont, trudging toward
Paris, with his shoulder throbbing,
met this heroic band. They were
headed the other way; they were {
setting out to fight for France!
Papa Guillemont's mental processes
we're very simple; he turned and
went with them. He had saved no
arms or accoutrement in his escape,
put he took a munitionless gun from
a fallen comrade, and joining the