The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1919-01-09


pacious dishes: mex came a rich and
satisfying fritto misto. and then large
platters. burdened with pasta redo
lent with an herb savored sauce.
There was plenty Of honest wine to-
wash down the huge slashes of war
bread served out generously to an
of us.
No Bitterness In War Talk.
After the pleasant business of eating
was over the men started talking about
the war. II was a simple. rather Oh
~jective discussion, without bitterness
or hatred, of something unpleasant
which had to be done, but all must
wish that 1t should be ended and laid
aside as 500 as possible. Then the
conversation waxed warm In the more
direct and personal realities Of the
years corps. and the promise for the
coming seasons. One by one the
little children snuggled closer to their
mothers sides and childish heads
bent sleepi!y over the table or fell.
relaxed and safe, on arms soft and
solicitous with maternal care. The
drowsiness of a hard days labor crept
irresistibly upon the men. urging
them to well-earned and refreshing
sleep.
We said good night and start
ed homeward; the little oil lamp by
the door had flickered out. but n faint
moonlight was bathing the landscape
in a soft, mystical i~ndistinctness; far
away the domes and towers of Flor
ence rose skyward like dream sym
bols Of hopes and darings, of love and
faith.
i sat In contemplation. watching tho
moonlight a stronger and brighter,
making more real and definite the Pic
ture of peace on earth spread so won
drously before me, till my thoughts
wandered away to another harvest
scene, far removed among sterner but
no less peace loving mountains, a har-
vest scene of battle wherein men like
those with whom l had gathered
grapes today were the p%rotagonists.
We have been told Of the thrill OF a
gallant assault and the stirring emo
tons of a brave defense. but what OF
the harvest after the decisive fightiag
is over and one walks over the fields
plowed by the merciless artillery and
narrowed by the struggles and the suf-
ferings of men. What of the fruitagr
of battle, not alone of the dead and
the wounded we have been told 80
often, but of all the other and inde-
scribably sad things which the eye
and the heart of the harvest gathersl
Amidst Scenes OF D~esoIation.
Look! A once fiourishing little
town, with not a single one OF it's
houses unscathed, and most OF them
horribly rent asunder, showing the
debris Of what had once been the
privacy and the sanctity OF peaceful
hearths. In the partial shelter OF
these shells Of homes along the maia
streets OF the town, countless men are
sitting or crouching, in full fighting
equipment, waiting for orders to pro-
coed to the front trenches. where a
battle has just been fought and wen-
Let us walk to the battlefield: 1t Is
reached through a pine wood stiN
smoking ~resinously from the fires
which the bursting shells have started
The road is wholly exposed to the
range of the enemy's artillery. but
thousands of men have CALAMITY
crossed II in order 20 reach their COM
rades In the trenches beyond. Yea
can see what the harvest has been
here! There are fragments Of shrap-
mel and unexploded shells along every
foot of the line; by the whir Of the
projectiles still passing over
heads we can reconstruct the scene Of
fire of some hours ago; the shells whinx
by us with that horrible suggestive
rotatory sound which seems to say:
Coming, Coming, Bang-and you diei