The Washington times., 1937-11-12

short, explicit curses.
"Geez, I suppose it's my faul
this trench is like tunnel" Boyl'
expostulated. Besides, signed
on to beat my base drum, not 81
on no detail lookin' for wounded.
"Bandmen is always detailed tt
look for wounded in battle" sale
Kelley irritably; ''it says so IL
regulations"
The two helmeted soldiers toilec
along the dark, deserted support
trench. Thick fog seeped down or
them; it seemed something they
could touch.
Only the yellow burst Of an ex
ploding projectile, or the fog
shrouded glare of star shells pene'
trated the pitchy blacknesS.
IGNORES INSULTS
His companion growled a string
of insults aimed at his lack Of
courage and lack of size. Boyle
ignored them.
Instead, with the air Of resum-
ing an interesting dispute he said:
Maybe you're right about the
Yankees, what with Ruth and that
gang, but the Braves"
"Nuts!" snorted Kelley. What
kinda a guy are you! We lose
contac' with the detail on account
you arguin' baseball; we gets lost
in this trench an you starts all
over. Geezes, you give me pain, "
he concluded with rising anger.
"But I thought you was Yank
FAM" said Boyle shifting his fat
body. "Me, I'm rootin' for the
Braves myself" he went on COM
placently while his comra d e
growled steady curses; he stretched
back. "You wouldn't think it now,
but when I was a kid I used to
catch"
Kelley interrupted with more
scathing oaths. He jabbed his boot
toe into a hole in the side Of the
trench wall, started slimbing up:
Then maybe you can catch me, ~
he jeered. "I'm goin' after the
gang"
"Hey! Hey!" piped Boyle. wait
a sec, can't yeh?"
He scrambled up half heartedly
till his head rose above the rim of
the grave-like trench, watched
Kelley disappear into the murk
that spread out towards No Mans
Land.
The wall Of a shell, its sudden
deafening burst, loosened his grip
on the clay wall. His stunpy legs
buckled. He SQuatted again on the
firestep.
Can you tie that?" he painted.
Huh! see If I care!" He listened
to the muted battle thunder, con
trasting it with the eerie quiet OF
the soot-hlack trench.
'The idee! Leavin' me fiat" he
grumbled with an unsuccessful
attempt to summon real resent
ment. He fumbled in his haver-
sack and brought out a flashlight
torch, snapped it on. The yellow
rays painted a feeble ring on the
fog. Boyle shivered.
"GeeZ, this spot is cheerful as a
grave, even if it is safer" He
plunged his hand again in his
haversack, drew out a tapering
bottle. He untwisted the cork, up
ended the bottle as if it were a
telescope. The brandy trickled
warm down his throat; he
coughed.
LOST IN FOG
eat that" he said with his habit
of thinking out loud, maybe I'm
better off. IF any nosey Second
Looie happens by, an asks me,
How Gomez I'll just tell him the
gang lost me in the fog"
He chuckled at the idea. Lost,
right in the middle Of a battle, be-
lieve it or not, lieutenant" Again
he chuckled, became silent at the
ominous sound of distant battle
thunder.
"Cripes," he grumbled, after d
second drink from the bottle,
when I joins this mans army no.
body wises me the band drops
their instruments, and grabs First
Aid kits as soon as the Shootin'
begins. An my bass drum rottin'
back in Rennes."
The mental picture discouraged
him; again he drank, wiped his
lips. wonder what folks r doin'
back home right now?" He made
a calculation.
"It'S day in the good ole U. S. A. ::
folks goin' to the ball game, likely.
CripeS, I'd give a mont'S pay to
see the Braves-Ah don't be a sap,
Boyle, you're in the army now."
Obviously the only remedy was
another spot of brandy. Eyes sky.
ward, Boyle noted the lightning
like shell bursts in the fog. He
corked the bottle, stood up, started
to waddle down the trench.
wish I'd meet up wit some
guy" he mumbled, maybe he
Without warning a voice sybil
lated out Of the fog above him.
Thl.s-s-S American t-r.r
ench?"
Boyle crisped at the whispered
words.
"S-u-u.re, sure it's American
He stopped in panic. His voice
mysteriouSly merged with the ris
ing shrek Of an on-coming shell
He looked up imagining some hug
mass "big as a locomotive boiler
hurting towards him.
The shell burst in a thousanC
screaming fragments, In that flasl