The Washington times., 1931-10-14
CHAPTER III

gray uSnC; LFeeS TuSCle, ledVCS
are falling. falling.
Along the road, step upon
step, in their faded, dirty
uniforms. tramp the gray
columns. The unShaved faces
beneath the steel helmets
are haggard, wasted with
hunger and long peril, pinched
and dwindled to the lines
drawn by terror and cour-
age and death. They trudge
along in silence; silently, as they
have now marched over SO
many road, have sat in so
many a truck, squatted in so
many a dugout, crouched in so
many a shell hole-without many
words; so, too, now they trudge
along this road back home into
peace. without many words:
Old men with boards and slim
lads scarce 20 years of age, COM
rades wiSlout difference. Be,
side them their lieutenantS, lit
tie more than children, yet the
leaders Of many a night raid:
And behind them, the army OF
slain. Thus they tramp onward,
step by step, sick, half-starvlng,
without ammunition, in thin
companies, with eyes that still
fail to comprehend it; escaped
out of that underworld. on the
road back to life.
Tired of 1t ALI
The company is marching
slowly, for we are tired and
have wounded with us. Little
by little our group falls behind
The country is hilly, and when
the road climbs we can see from
the summit the last of our own
weapons plays over them. But
around them lie the quiet fields.
and the treetops in their au.
tunnal colors tower solemn and
unconcerned above the oncom-
ing flood.
we stopped for the night in a
little village. Behind the houses
in which we billeted flows a
stream lined with willows. A
narrow path runs beside it. On
behind another in a long file
troops withdrawing before us.
and behind us the dense, end
less columns that follow after.
They are Americans. They pour
on through the avenues of trees
like a broad river and the rest
less glitter of their
we follow it. Kosole is in front.
Behind him runs Wolf, the COM
pany mascot, and shifts at his
haversack.
Suddenly at the crossroad,
where the path opens into the
high road, Ferdinand springs
back.
look out!"
On the instant our rifles are
up and we scatter. Kosole
crouches in the ditch by the
roadside, ready to fire: Jupp
and Trosske duck and spy out
from behind a clump of elders:
Willy Homeyer tugs at his hand
grenade belt; even our wounded
are ready to fight.
Along the road are coming a
few Americans, They are laugh
ing and talking together. 1t is
an advance patrol that has
overtaken us. Adolph Bethke
alone has remained unper.
turbed. He advances calmly a
few pace clear of the cover.
Kosole gets up again. The
rest Of us recover ourselves
also, and, embarrassed and
Sheepish, readjust our belts and
our rifle slings-for, of course,
fighting has ceased some days
now.
Friendly Greetings
At sight of us the Americans
halt suddenly. Their talk stops.
Slowly they approach. We retire
against a shed to cover our
backs, and wait. The wounded
men we place in the middle.
After a minutes silence an
American. tall as a tree, steps
out from the group. stands be;
fore us and. beckoning, greets
US.
Hello, Kamerad!"
Adolf Bethke raises his hand
in like manner. "Kamerad!"
The tension relaxes. The Ameri.
cans advance. A moment later
We are surrounded by them.
Hitherto we have cen them
so closely only when t. ~ we're
either prisoners or dead.
1t is a strange moment. We
gaze at them in silence. They
stand about us in semicircle
fine, powerful fellows; clearly
they have always had plenty to
eat. They are all young: not
one Of them is nearly so old as
Adolf Bethke or Ferdinand
KoSole-and they are not our
Oldest by a long chalk. On the
other hand none is SO young
as Albert TroSSke or Karl Bro
ger-and they are by no means
the youngest Of us.
Well Equipped
They are wearing new uni
forms and greatcoatS: their
boots are watertight and fit
well; their rifles are good and
their pouches full of ammuni-