Evening star., 1933-06-04
BY THOMAS NJ. JOHNSON.

Order of the Purple Heart was
Peter de Pasqua, assistant man
ager of the third-cass depart
ment of the United States Lines
there. The decoration established by George
washington, and revived for the Bicentennial,
was given to Mr.. de Pasqua by virtue of the
meritorious service citation awarded him in
1918 by Gen. Pershing"
Underneath this bare clipping from the house
organ published by the United States Lines
lies hidden the true story of the first American
decoration that has been awarded to an opera
tive of the A. E. F.'s secret service, told for
the first time, with his full name and those of
the other participants, and all the details of
the gallant exploit of counter espionage that
won him the honor
It took place in the thrilling, critical Sum-
mer Of 1918. in the old French city Of Beaune,
important center on the American Services of
Supply There, in the back room of the small
drinking place, sat three men,
Death to the Americans! hate them ALL"
A swarthy fist crashed down upon the table
top, the candle flame leaped, casting an eerie,
Pickering light upon the speakers face. dark
face with high cheekboneS and cruel lips part
ed to show discolored teeth-an ugly vision
Of maligant hatred inf1amed by wine
"m the name of the saints, Diaz," said one
OF his drinking companions, anxiously, "be
careful what you shout so loudly, with all these
Americans about"
Some doughboys, lining the copper topped
bar, must have understood little Spanish.
They started angrily toward the party Of three.
With howl Of rage, Diaz arose In his
hand knife glittered. One American seized
wine bottle, another heavy broom. The
wine hop was in turmoil
AT that instant rather slight young man
j. in civilian clothes threw himself at Diaz,
pouring forth torrent of Spanish Amazed,
Diaz stood weaving in his tracks, then slowly
put up the knife ans sat down again with his
white-faced companions. The man who had
so miraculously cooled his rage, turned to the
surprised doughboys.
you're helluva lot of wiSeguys!" he re-
marked. Getting into trouble in the only
place for blocks where we can get drink!
D'you wanta bring in the M. P's?"
At that psychological moment Yvette the
barmaid, invited "tous les braves soldats Ameri-
Gains" to drink the house. That was SO
unusual that the versatile peacemaker was un-
noticed as he joined Diaz and his two friends.
Come, drink with us" DiaZ cried. "Drink
the good rich Beaune wine, and forget troubles,
even"-this time he lowered his voice-"even
the accursed Yankees
So around the candle, warmed by red
Beaune wine, they talked, always in Spanish
Two Of the three were Spaniards brought
TO France by the Americans, to help complete
the great building projects that made up the
s. o. S.. including a large base hospital at
Beaune. The third a Frenchman, inva-
Nded out of the army. and of Socialist ten
dencies
Their new friend had not only lived in
Spain, but he knew so many languages that the
American Red Cross had hired him as inter-
prefer for the thousands of laborers of all ma
tions imported to Beaune. His name was
Pietro he liked wine, cards and dice yet he
drank and gambled without losing his head.
So it appeared.
Diaz was noisy and quarrelsome, but the
newcomer seemed to like him.
"I could easily see, amigo" he said, "that
you were Spanish aristocrat. Naturally,
these doughboys irritate you But. Is there no
other reason?"
nIAzS bloodshot eyes searched Pietro's
- youthful face. He poured himself another
drink, then explained, with venomous voice:
II was born in Cuba of an influential fam
lily. But when the Americans conquered, in
1898, they made us go back to Spain. was
drafted into the army, and when would not
obey 1ow-class sergeants. the colonel ordered
me hogged.
THAT night slipped into his quarters and
thrust my knife into his heart. Then I fled
here to France, to work for these Americans
whom hate-but only to get revenge"
They all go well together that they
agreed to meet again Pietro watched the
three figures wobbling grotesquely over the
cobbleStones of Beaune, until they disappeared
around corner. Then he went quickly in the
other direction, turned into slot Of an alley,
ran up a flight of arched-over stairs, and
and low voice spoke:
Well, sergeant, you're late. Anything do
ing?"