The Birmingham age-herald., 1919-06-08

| CrossVille, Tenn, June I.-tSpecial)
 Last week saw Alvin c. York come back
 to his native mountains. He left the rail-
 road here at Crossville to drive in a car | % miles to his home up in Frentress 1 county. He came in on the afternoon l train just as all the other boys have
 come, and always there has been the l same welcome crowd at the station. But
 this time everyone was a little more | quiet than usual. It was as if the big
 ness of what York had done had sud ] denly awed them and I found myself
 wondering if the responsibility of killing l 9 of the enemy would not manifest itself
 in the face of this young mountain man. | As the train pulled in there was no 1 cheering. Everybody waited watching
 and eager. These people were the friends and neighbors of York, and their way 1 is not the way of the noisy cities. The 1 red faced engineer pulled the train in with the whistle shrieking, but Yorks people said nothing. They all knew this
 man of theirs had done something very | big, but just how big perhaps York him. l self even does not realize.
 l Certain it is that as Alvin York stepped | down. almost home, there was nothing | of the swaggering hero about him. He l looked very hot and a bit tired A | friendly, eager smile broke over his face 1 as they began to clutch at his big hands | and take his army bag from him. 'I am l one happy kid,' he said. and this is | home!"
 l An old man had put his head out of | the rear coach and had called to the | waiting people that York was on board, 1 to begin to yell. but no one had yelled. And most people who saw the return of | York had tears in their eyes. He seemed such an everyday boy of the mountain. and he had been called upon to perform so terrible and so tremendous a task. | Seeing him, his feat became the more in credible for he did not look at all for | midable
 | His uniform was one of the ordinary l service ones. He had not stopped for | tailored one. It was travel-stained, too, | and not too trim but on his breast were l medals. One was the Croix de Guerre | and a palm leaf was across it's ribbon. France had given him her highest honor. He was not so much a giant as one may have thought, nor has he any chesti- ness or unusual weight. He walked along the platform as simply as a boy coming from school and meeting his family at the station Fetes and banquets and receptions had been given him from New
 York to Crossville. but doubt If any of them gave York the pleasure this little crowd of home people reused in him. I watched him as the mayor addressed him in a brief welcome. He had all the native dignity of his people, repose and ease He stood at rest, motonless and pa- tient in the hot sun holding his kepi hls thick red hair shining. I felt that it was probably requiring more real nerve to stand there, quietly, so near home, than it had taken back there on his hillside in France.
 Only his eyes were restless-another trait of the mountains They wandered from face to face of the speaker to the crowd in front, to the waiting to take him home. One felt he was re- pressing his eagerness to be off to his mother.
 They wanted him to make a speech, and I feared lest he would spoil all the simplicity of the moment by attempting one, but York does not make mistakes If he did he would have been over in France yet. He just said the very fewest possible things and the only fitting things he could say to his own people. His face flushed as he told them how much more this greeting meant than any of the others he had been rendered, and of how glad he was to be back home. His voice was low and clear, and very steady, and it was easy to picture him as he was
 
 shooting true in the very face of the enemy. He said he was only a soldier, and that he was just the same boy who had gone away a few months ago and that he was foolish in his haste to go on home. Then, and not till then. did that crowd open up and cheer. If he had missed any demonstration before he was satisfied now. The people crowded about him, pulling him in all ways at once, but with native skill he extricated himself, shook hands graciously with everyone. patted small boys on the head with the grace of a Chesterfield and posed for the kodaks.
 A New York reporter hung at his heels and jotted down his every word and move.
 They asked him if he would, go to see an old man who lay dying, and a soldier who was very i'll. Sure I will.' he said 1 Where are they?''
 half hour later three cars sped out l or the road to the north and York was | on the last lap of his journey home.
 They told me next day that he stopped l at only two places on the way, and l can believe it, for if ever man was l the embodiment of contentment and l sheer, keen joy in existence, York was | that man the next day. He was walk | ing about his farm, through the wood l roads arm in arm with the girl who had | been awaiting him. He had succeeded | in heading off big basket picnic forl week. and he and the girl had decided | to make that day their wedding day. and | have the week to make their arrange | ments.