The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1931-10-13

WITCHES. breathes more heavily,
more slowly, with pauses,
slackening-then once more,
very deep and sighing-and
suddenly has eyes as if he had
been blinded, and is dead.
Next morning we are in the
front trenches for the last time.
Hardly a shot is fired. The
war is ended. In an hour, we
must pull out. We need never
come back here again. When
we go, we go forever.
The Retreat Order
What there is to be destroyed
we destroy. It is little enough,
only a couple of dugouts. Then
comes the order to retreat.
It is a strange moment. We
stand side by side and look
toward the front. Light trailers
of mist lie over the ground.
The lines of shell holes and
trenches are clearly visible.
They are, indeed, only the last
line-they belong really to the
reserve position-still they are
well within range of the guns.
How often we have gone in
through those saps! How often
and how few we have come
back through them! Gray
stretches the monotonous land
scape before us; in the distance
what is left of a corpse, a few
stumps, the ruins Of a village,
in the midst of it one solitary
high wall that has withstood it
all.
Yes" says Bethke, medita-
lively, cts four years, four
years we've been sitting there"
YES" mods Kosole. And
now it just fizzles out"
"Well-well-" Willy leans
back against the parapet.
Funny. eh?"
We stand and gaze. The
farmhouse, the remnants of the
wood, the heights, the trenches
on the sky line yonder; it had
been a terrible world and life
a burden. Now, it is over and
will stay behind here. When
we set out, it will drop behind
U.s. step by step, and, in an
hour, be gone as if it. had
never been. Who can realize
it?
There we stand and should
laugh and shout for joy and,
yet, we have now a sick feeling
in the pit of our stomachs, as
one who swallows throat
swab and would vo--lit.
None knows what to say. Lud-
wig Breyer leans YEARLY against
the side of the trench and
raises his hand, as if there were
some man yonder to whom he
would wave.
Heel appears. Cant GEAR to
leave it, Ell? Well, now for the
dregS."
Ledderhose looks at him in
establishment. Nov for peace,
you mean"
Just Repartee
eyes, that 1.-THE dregs," says
Heel, and goes off, looking as if
his mother had just died.
HE hasn't got his pour lie
merite'; that's what's biting
him." explains Ledderhose.
"Ach, shut your mug!" says
Albert.
well, let's co." urges Bethke.
but still stands on.
"A lot of us lying there, says
Ludwig.
"Yes-Brandt, Muller, Kat,
Hale, Banner, Bertinck-"
"Sandkuhl, Members, the two
Terbruggen, Hugo, Bernhard"
For heavens sake, stop,
man"
They are many, indeed, that
lie there, though until now we
have not thought of it so. Hith-
erto we have just all remained
there together-they in the
graves, we in the trenches, di-
vided only by a few handfuls
of earth. They were but a lit.
tie before us: daily we became
less and they more, and often
we have not known whether we
already belonged to them or
not. And sometimes, too, the
shells would bring them back
among us again, crumbling
bones tossed up; scraps Of uni
form; to the noise Of the drum.
fire issuing once more from
their buried dugouts and return
ing to the battle. But now we
are going back into life and
they must stay there.
Endeared to Death
Ludwig, whose cousin was
killed in this sector. blows his
nose through his fingers and
turns about. Slowly we follow.
But we halt yet a few times
and look about us. And agan
we stand still, and suddenly we
know that all that yonder, that
place of terrors. that desolate
corner Of shell-hole land, has
usurped our hearts-yet, damn
it, that 1t should sound such
slush!-it seems almost as If it
had become endeared to us, a
dreadful homeland, full or tor
ment. and we imply belonged
in it.
We shake oIIr haads n,,f