Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-06-21

Eli bet Bill MADE IL.
bill didn't make it! Bill stopped
something, Bill did. Don't l know"
CHOW do you know"
Jaw, cantcha let me set some
sleep, you guys?"
''Cut out that talking
They settled down once more, shift
Eng positions, budding against each
other, shivering. grumbling, cold. The
lieutenant, hungry for a smoke, but
unwilling to light a cigarette. sat ON
an old piece of board and mapped.
Little by little the others grew quiet.
The outfit dozed, slept. even snored.
Twenty minutes passed; a half hour,
an hour. The lieutenant, waking with
a start, looked at his watch and
heaved a sigh of relief. There had
been no firing. Young Levy must be
we'll back now.
sAnd then it happened-what he mad
feared all day. Some crazy enemy
battery, prompted by God knew what,
open on them.
Ut began with single shell, eXplod.
ing outside the trench. The eNplo'
sion startled and shriveled them all.
but 1t did no damage. merely tossing
about few dead bodies and leaving
trail of poisonous gas. Then, closer
and uglier, came another. a terrific
eEplosion--a cloud leaping up. blacker
than night and shot with fire; tor.
nado of sound.
Immediately. as if in response. the
Others began to talk in low. rapid
stream of indistinguishable sentences,
the wandering mutter of delirium.
chaplain Samuels felt for his first
aid kit, and then remembered. 1t was
gone. He looked about him for
possible canteen, flask to be found
perhaps on some dead man lying in
the shadows. But he could see no
other figures. And then. as ne knelt
there. peering, he realized that the
wounded boy had had and had used
first-aid kit of his own. A reek OF
iofiine came up to him.
Twisting around to a sitting posi-
ton. he tried to slip one arm under
the mud-caked shoulders.
"A groan and a deadly limpness
stopped that instantly.
HE looked down and noticed sud-
denly the angle of the others limbs.
One leg was bent back horribly. The
very sight of it made him feel sick.
lie was a moment. gathering him.
self. Then in a hoarse. cracked whis-
per, a voice he hardly knew as his
own. he spoke:
g''Old man.
EOnce again the boy stirred family.
az though in response. The fingers of
one weak hand rose slightly and the
chaplain saw that they were holding
notwithstanding that caught the
gray light, like metal.
with a quick movement he bent
forward and touched it, saw what 1t
was-the metal identification tag given
every enlisted man.
.He took the tag from the boys limp
Haacnrc and tried n road II hI1f the
metal chain was too short, the light
too dim. And as he sat there, squint-
Ing at it. vainly trying to make out
the name, he became aware that the
others eyes had opened, were fastened
on him. A boyish voice, startlingly
clear and loud, said:
sa"Dunn. sir-Patsy Dunn. B. Com
p'ny-" Weakness intervened: the
voice trailed off. Some scrap. eh?"
.sChaplain Samuels let the tag fall,
q dry lump rising in his throat at
the boys gameness. With an effort
fle nodded and smiled.
-+"Wonderful scrap, old man! Great
night! But we're going to be out Of
this soon-you and /. Hang on"
There was no response to this.
Listening intently, waiting, Chap
lain Samuels thought the drawn. gray
features changed expression. Then
there was no mistaking 1.-THE boy's
head shook. a feeble gesture of mega.
ton. His right hand lifted, moved up
and across his mud-caked tunic, made
the sign Of the cross.
chaplain Samuels Strengthened
sharply.
%He understood. He had seen dying
men before. Patsy Dunn, B Com
pany, was going out on the long jour
uey. and he knew it.
Dunn-Patrick Dunn! An Irish
Catholic youngster. And no one with
him at his side but he, Jacob Samuels
a rabbi of the Jewish Church! They
were on their feet in an instant, dig
ging for cover. Crouched down in the
mud, stretched fiat along the bottom
Of the trough, under fragments of tim
her and cement, they tried to hide like
faoles from the rain Of flying steel and
iron. It was indescribable, the mex
few acknowledgements Bit b.
bit they were buried under stone and
wood and torn flesh. One or two o.
them rose-tried like rats to escape
They vanished almost before they hat
risen. The rest disappeared more
slowly, suffocated by gas and smoke
deafened, blinded, senseless.
s 1t didn't take long. 1t never does
that sort of thing. The bombardmen
lasted perhaps five minutes-just {
couple Of batteries obeyed some ordel
action followed it. Nothing. Blu
when it was over there was no trench
left. Only a plowed and fiattenec
crater tumble of smoking, shell
tossed earth and bodies.
Chaplain Jacob Samuels, cold, foot
sore, stiff with WEAKNESS, very shak,
in the knees, crawled over a tangle o
cement and steel and twisted timbe
and peered anxiously into the gra.
shadows of the pit ahead.
Dawn was breaking in the east be
hind him. He had no idea where h
was. He had been lost for hours; h.
hadn't eaten since noon of the preced
ing day; he was caked with mud, hal
dazed with WEAKNESS, numb will
strain, but he was unwounded, an,
for the moment he was desperately
alert.
He pushed aside an upturned knar
sack and listened. A cold, damp al
drew across the crater, acrid an
sharp with the smell of high explc
sive. Nothing moved in the gray hal
Hight. The pit seemed empty. d.
serted, apparently An abandone
rife pit, ruined by shellfire. A NOR
shallow bowl or uptossed earth, gun:
helmets. 1t had the unearthly look a
ground has after heavy fire. He fe
like a visitor dropped from Mars.
The night was strangely silent.
the distance somewhere French II
were engaged in battery work, an
very faint and far away the voices {
wounded men came to him. calling
But here in the crater nothing sti
red. Or so he thought at first. The
as he crouched there, painting a littl
he became aware of something almol
at his feet-a dark shape, darker tina
the shadows. For an instant
Ehrank back, taut, expecting anything
Then az he recovered himself as h