(Continued from last week.) He came to the German front line, but it was deserted, except for heaps’ pf dead and wounded—a grim tribute to the work of his company, gnod old D company. Leaping trenches, and gasping for breath, Lloyd could see right ahead of him his company in a dead-ended sap of a communication trench, and across the open, away in front of them, a mass of Germans pre- paring for a charge. Why didn’t D company fire on them? Why were they so strangely silent? What were they waiting for? Then he knew—their am- munition was exhausted. But what was that on his right? A machine gun. Why didn’t it open fire and save them? He would make that gun's crew do their duty. Rushing over to the gun he saw why it had not opened fire, Scattered around its base lay six still forms. They had brought their gun to consolidate the captured position, but a German machine gun had decreed they would never fire again. Lloyd rushed to the gun and, grasp- ing the traversing handles, trained it on the Germans. He pressed the thumb piece, but only a sharp click was the result. The gun was unloaded. Then he realized his helplessness. He did not know how to load the gun. Oh, why hadn’t he attended the machine- gun course in England? He'd been offered the chance, but with a blush of shame he remembered that he had been afraid. The nickname of the machine gunners had frightened him. They were called the “Suicide cluh.” Now, because of this fear, his company would be destroyed, the men of D com- pany would have to die, because he, Albert Lloyd, had been afraid of a name. In his shame he cried like a baby. ‘Anyway he could die with them and, rising to his feet, he stumbled over the body of one of the gunners, who emitted a faint moan. A gleam of hope flashed through him. Perhaps this man could tell him how to load the gun. Stooping over the body he gently shook it and the soldier opened his eyes. Seeing Lloyd, he closed them again and, in a faint voice, said: “Get away, you blighter, leave me alone. I don’t want any coward around me.” The words cut Lloyd like a knife, but he was desperate. Taking the re- volver out of the holster of the dying man he pressed the cold muzzle to the soldier's head and replied: “Yes, it is Lloyd, the coward of Company D, but so help me God, if you don’t tell me how to load that gun I'll put a bullet through your brain!” A sunny smile came over the coun- tenance of the dying man and he said in a faint whisper: “Good old boy! I knew you wouldn't disgrace our company——" Lloyd interposed: “For God’s sake, if you want to save that company you are so proud of, tell me how to load that d——d gun!” As if reciting a lesson in school, the soldier replied in a weak, singsong voice: “Insert tag end of belt in feed: blo~k, with left hand pull belt left’ front. Pull crank handle back on roll- er, let go, and repeat motion. Gun is now loaded. To fire, raise automatic: safety - latch, and press thumbpiece. Gun is now firing. If gun stops, ascer- tain position of crank handle—" But Lloyd waited for no more. With, wild joy at his heart, he took a belt from one of the ammunition boxes ly- ing beside the gun, and followed the dying man’s instructions. Then he: pressed the thumbpiece and a burst of. fire rewarded his efforts. The gun was working. Training it on the Germans he shout- ed for joy as their front rank went down. . Traversing the gun back and forth. along the mass of Germans, he saw. them break and run back to the cover. of their trench, leaving their dead and wounded behind. He had saved his company, he, Lloyd, the coward, had *~ bit.” Releasing the thumb- piece, he looked at the watch on his wrist. He was still alive at “3:38.” “Ping !”—a bullet sang through the air, and Lloyd fell forward across the ‘gun. A thin trickle of blood ran down his face from a little, black round hole in his fonghead. * *® * * * * * “The sentence of the court had been “duly carried out.” The captain slowly raised the limp form drooping over the gun and, wip- ing the blood from the white face, rec- ognized it as Lloyd, the coward of D company. Reverenily covering the face with his handkerchief he turned to his “poncoms” and, in a voice husky with emotions, addressed them: “Boys, it’s Lloyd, the deserter. He has redeemed himself, died the death of a hero—died that his mates might live.” That afternoon a solemn procession wended its way toward the cemetery. In the front a stretcher was carried by és T pus id \ Ud wr 2p Vio, TW ©wrey 1 ARTHIR (IY FMO7} two sergeants. Across the stretcher the Union Jack was carefully spread. Behind the stretcher came a captain and forty-three men, all that were left of D company. Arriving at the cemetery, they halt- ed in front of an open grave. All about them wooden crosses were broken and trampled into the ground. A grizzled old sergeant, noting this destruction, muttered under his breath: “Curse the cowardly blighter who wrecked those crosses! If I could only get these two hands around his neck his trip West would be short.” The corpse on the stretcher seemed to move, or it might have been the wind blowing the folds of the Union Jack. : CHAPTER XXV. Preparing for the Big Push. Rejoining Atwell after the execution I had a hard time trying to keep my secret from him. I think IL;must have lost at least ten pounds worrying over the affair. Beginning at seven in the evening it was our duty to patrol all communica- tion and front-line trenches, making note of unusual occurrences, and ar- resting anyone who should, to us, ap- pear to be acting in a suspicious man- ner. We slept during the day. Behind the lines there was great ac- iivity, supplies and ammunition pour- ing in, and long columns of troops con- stantly passing. We were preparing for the big offensive, the forerunner of the battle of the Somme or “Big Push.” The never-ending stream of men, supplies, ammunition and guns pour- ing into the front lines made a mighty spectacle, one that cannot be de- scribed. It has to be witnessed with your own eyes to appreciate its vast- ness. : At our part of the line the influx of supplies never ended. It looked like a huge snake slowly crawling forward, never a hitch or break, a wonderful tribute to the system and efficiency of Great Britain’s “contemptible little army” of five millions of men. Huge fifteen®inch guns scaked along, foot by foot, by powerful steam tract- tors. Then a long line of “four point five” batteries, each gun drawn by six horses, then a couple of “nine point two” howitzers pulled by immense caterpillar engines. ‘When one of these caterpillars would pass me with its mighty monster in tow, a flush of pride would mount to my face, because I could plainly read on the name plate, “Made in U. S. A.,” and I would remember that if I wore a name plate it would also read, “From the U. S. A” Then I would stop to think how thin and straggly that ‘mighty stream would be if all the “Made in U. S. A.” parts of it were ‘withdrawn. Then would come hundreds of lim- bers and “G. S.” wagons drawn by sieek, well-fed mules, ridden by sleek, well-fed men, ever smiling, although grimy with sweat and covered with the fine, white dust of the marvelously well-made French roads. ‘What a discouraging report the Ger- man airmen must have taken back to their division commanders, and this stream is slowly but surely getting big- ger and bigger every day, and the pace is always the same. No slower, no faster, but ever onward, ever forward. Three weeks before the big push of July 1—as the battle of the Somme has been called—started, exact duplicates of the German trenches were dug about thirty kilos behind our lines. The layout of the trenches was taken from airplane photographs submitted by the Royal flying corps. The trench- es were correct to the foot; they showed dugouts, saps, barbed wire de- fenses and danger spots. Battalions that were to go over in the first waves were sent back for three days to study these trenches, en- gage in practice attacks and have night maneuvers. Each man was required to make a map of the trenches and fa-: miliarize himself with the names and location of the parts his battalion was to attack. In the American army noncommis- sioned officers are put through a course, of map making or road sketching, and’ during my six years’ service in the: United States cavalry I had plenty of practice in this work, therefore map- ping these trenches was a compara- tively easy task for me. Each man had to submit his map to the company commander to be passed upon, and I was lucky enough to have mine select- ed as being sufficiently authentic to use in the attack. No photographs or maps are allowed to leave France, but in this case it ap- pealed to me as'a valuable souvenir of the great war and I managed to smug- gle it through. At this time it carries no military importance as the British lines, I am happy to say, have since been advanced beyond this point, so AN AMERICAN SOLDIER WHO WENT ARTHURGUY EMPEY MACHINE GUNNER, SERVING IN FRANCE— in having it in my possession { am not } breaking any regulation or cautions of the British army. The whole attack was rehearsed and rehearsed until we heartiry cursed the one who had conceived the !dea. The trenches were named according to a system which made it very simple for Tommy to find, even in the dark, any point in the German lines. These imitation trenches, or trench models, were well guarded from obser- vation by numerous allied planes which constantly circled above them. No German airplane could approach within observation distance. A re- stricted area was maintained and no! civilian was allowed within three, miles, so we felt sure that we had a' great surprise in store for Fritz, When we took over the front line. we received an awful shock. The Germans displayed signboards aver: the top of their trench showing the names that we had called heir trenches. The signs read “Fair®; “Fact,” “Fate,” and “Fancy,” and 86: CHAPTER XXVI. All Quiet (?) on the Western Front At brigade headquarters I happened to overhear a conversation between our G. 0. C. (general officer commanding) and the divisional commander. From this conversation I learned that we were to bombard the German lines for eight days, and on the first of July the “big push” was to commence. In a few days orders were issued to that effect, and it was common prop- erty all along the line. On the afternoon of the eighth day of our “strafeing,” Atwell and I were sit- ting in the front-line trench smoking fags and making out our reports of the previous night's tour of the trenches, which we had to turn in to headquar- ters the following day, when an order was passed down the trench that Old Pepper requested twenty volunteers to go over on a trench raid that night to try and get a few German prisoners for information purposes. I immediately volunteered for this job. anc shook ED NSE LS > (FF T1ar:0 2 ; ET LE ER LTE ry hs Over the Top on, according to the code names on our map. Then to rub it in, they hoisted some more signs which read, “Come on, we are ready, stupid Eng- lish.” ; It is still a mystery to me how they, obtained this knowledge. There had: been no raids or prisoners taken, so it must have been the work of spies in our own lines. Three or four days before the big push we tried to shatter Fritz’s nerves by feint attacks, and partially suc- ceeded as the official reports of July 1 show. Although we were constantly bom- barding their lines day and night, still we fooled the Germans several times. This was accomplished by throwing an intense barrage into his lines— then using smoke shells we would put a curtain of white smoke across No Man’s Land, completely obstructing his view of our trenches, ahd would raise our curtain of fire as if in an actual attack. All down our trenches the men would shout and cheer, and Fritz would-turn loose with machine-gun, rifle, and shrapnel fire, thinking we were com- ing over. After three or four of these dummy attacks his nerves must have been near the breaking point. On June 24, 1916, at 9:40 in the morning our guns opened up, and hell was let loose. The din was terrific, a constant boom-boom-boom in your ear. At night the sky was a red glare. Our bombardment had lasted about two hours when Fritz started reply- ing. Although we were sending over ten shells to his one, our casualties were heavy. There was a constant stream of stretchers coming out of the ‘communication trenches and burial parties were a common sight. In the dugouts the noise of the guns almost hurt. You had the same sensa- ‘tion as when riding on the subway you enter the tube under the river going to Brooklyn—a sort of pressure on the ear drums, and thé ground constantly trembling. The roads behind the trenches were very dangerous because Boche shrap- nel was constantly bursting over them. We avoided these dangerous spots by crossing through open fields. The destruction in the German lines was awful and I really felt sorry for them because I realized how they must be clicking it. From our front-line trench, every now and again, we could hear sharp whistle blasts in the German trenches. These blasts were the signals for ‘stretcher bearers, and meant the .wounding or killing of some German in the service of his fatherland. Atwell and I had a tough time of it, ‘patrolling the different trenches at night, but after awhile got used to it. My old outfit, the machine gum com- pany, was stationed in huge elephant dugouts about four hundred yards be- hind the front-line trench—they were in reserve. Occasionally I would stop in'their dugout and have a confab with my former mates. Although we tried to be jolly, still, there was a lurking feeling of impending disaster. Each man was wondering, if, after the slogan, “Over the top with the best of luck,” had been sounded, would he still be alive or would he be lying “some- where in France.” In an old dilapidated house, the walls of which were scarred with machine-gun bullets, No. 3 sec- tion of the machine gun company had | its quarters. The company’s cocks pre- pared the meals in this billet. C= the fifth evening of the bombardment a ‘German eight-inch shell registered a direct hit on the billet and wiped out ten men who were asleep in the sup- posedly bomb-proof cellar. They were buried the next day and I attended the funeral. in a Charge. hands with Atwell, and went to the rear to give my name to the officers in charge of the raiding party. I was accepted, worse luck. : At 9:45 that night we reported to the’ brigade headquarters dugout to receive Instructions from Old Pepper. After reaching this dugout we lined: up in a semicircle around him, and he addressed us as follows: : “All I want you boys to do is to go. over to the German lines tonight, sur- prise them, secure a couple of prison- ers, and return immediately. Our ar-. tillery has bombarded that section of the line for two days and personally I believe that that part of the German trench is unoccupied, so just get a cou- ple of prisoners and return as quickly as possible.” The sergeant on my right, in an un- Jertone, whispered to me: “Say, Yank, how are we going to get a couple of prisoners if the old fool thinks ‘personally that that part of the trench is unoccupied,’—sounds kind of fishy, doesn’t it mate?” I had a funny sinking sensation in my stomach, and my tin hat felt as if it weighed about a ton and my enthusi-. asm was melting away. Old Pepper must have heard the sergeant speak pecause he turned in his direction and fn a thundering voice asked: “What did you say?” The sergeant with a scarlet look on. his face and his knees trembling, smartly saluted and answered : “Nothing, sir.” Old Pepper said: “Well, don’t say it so loudly the next. time.” Then Old Pepper continued: “In this section of the German trenches there are two or three ma- chine guns which our artillery, in the, last two or three days, has been un- able to tape. These guns command the sector where two of our communica- tion trenches join the front line, and as the brigade is to go over the top to- morrow morning I want to capture two: or three men from these guns’ crews, and from them I may be able to obtain valuable information as to the exact location of the guns, and our artillery’ will therefore be able to demolish them. before the attack, and thus prevent; our losing a lot of men while using. these communication trenches to bring, up re-enforcements.” These were the instructions he gave us: : “Take off your identification disks, ; strip your uniforms of all numerals,’ insignia, etc., leave your papers with: your captains, because I don’t want the; Boches to know what regiments are against them as this would be valuable Information to them in our attack to-' morrow and I don’t want any of you to be taken alive. What I want is two orisoners and if I get them I have a way which will make them divulge all necessary information as to their guns. You have your choice of two weapons—you may carry your ‘per- suaders’ or your knuckle knives, and. each man will arm himself with four Mills bombs, these to be used only in, case of emergency.” : (Continued next week). His Discovery. A professor of history met one of his class who had returned from fighting on the western front, and asked him if he had learned any par- ticular lesson from the war. have discovered,” replied the young man, “that it is a great deal easier studying history than it is mak- ing it.” Modus Operandi. “I met your friend Spongely this morning.” “How did he strike you?” “Said he’d left his change at home in his other trousers.” ! + | together. 101 GERMAN LIES. Following is another installment of the 101 German lies run to earth by the St. Louis Republic and reprinted here for the benefit of “Watchman” readers: LIE No. 50. Among the absurd ru- mors is one that the United States proposes to confiscate money on de- posit in banks. (The absurdity of this statement is obvious on its face. This rumor is wholly without foundation, and prob- ably circulated for an evil purpose. Secretary McAdoo has issued a state- ment that the government “has no power to confiscate the money of de- positors in banks). . LIE No. 51. From E. L,, a St. Lou- sian, comes word that he was listen- ing to a conversation the other day, when someone remarked: “You nev- er hear of Morgan or Schwab any more because they were killed three months ago.” (Morgan and Schwab are still transacting business at the old stand). LIE No. 52. A reader at Christo- pher, Ill, tells The Republic that it is a common story thereabouts that money contributed to the Y. M. C. A. is not used for the benefit of soldiers, but is turned into a fund for the sup- pression of liquor making and saloons. (There is no truth in the story, nat- jurally. All money contributed to the Y. M. C. A’s war fund is used in mak- ing life more comfortable for the men at the front. If you want more proof of this, ask the first soldier you meet). LIE No. 53. The Shelby county Chapter of the American Red Cross, located at Shelbina, Mo., says this re- | port is circulated there: That socks which Red Cross workers knit for the soldiers are thrown aside as quickly as a hole appears in them; that sol- diers are not permitted to wear mend- ed hose. (This is not a difficult story to answer, but the answer must not be misconstrued. Soldiers are not per- mitted to wear mended socks while they are on active tour of duty. It is readily understood that no man could hike any distance at all were he wear- ing mended socks. However, soldiers who receive socks from the Red Cross nurse them tenderly and make them last as long as they will possibly hold Never fear, Shelbina, that American soldiers waste anything given them), LIE No. 54. B. Schwartz, 1330 North Newstead avenue, says he over- heard a conversation the other day in which it was stated as a fact that an American transport had been sunk and that the mother of a soldier’ aboard wrote to Secretary Baker and | asked for information, that Secretary Baker replied: “Don’t worry; your son is lying safely at the bottom of the sea.” (It is understood at once what the effect of such a story would be on a mother’s mind—4 mother whose son is overseas, or about to go. But there is no truth in the story at all. Sec- retary Baker is human, and would not reply to a letter in such a flippant manner. Relatives of all men who lose their lives in the service are im- mediately notified. No effort of se- crecy in a case of that kind. LIE No. 55. From a St. Louis source comes this one: That a Ger- man doctor in the United States Ar- my at Camp Bowie, Tex., used spinal meningitis serum instead of typhoid serum, sending 1,400 men to the hos- pital, and that he was shot for it the latter part of last week. (Col. F. P. Reynolds, Surgeon Gen- : eral’s office, Washington, D. C., had this to say of the report: “It is the most absurd and one of the wildest stories I have yet heard).” LIE No. 56. Virgil A. Duff, of ‘| Pearl, Ill., classes this one, which he sent yesterday, as the “biggest lie of them all:” That drafted soldiers at .{ the cantonments will not be permitted arms or ammunition during their training because they would rebel and kill their officers. (Duff wasn’t far wrong about the size of this lie, but it is self-contradic- tory. If drafted men will rebel in cantonments while training and can- not be permitted to handle firearms or ammunition, what will prevent them from doing the same thing when they have completed their course of instruction) ? LIE No. 57. Esta York, Elkville, Jackson county, Ill., wants to know if there is any truth inthe report that President Wilson will seize all hogs in the country, even those which far- mers raise to kill for home consump- tion. (By no means is there any truth in the report. It is pure German prop- aganda, nothing more). LIE No. 58. A Benton, Ill., reader sends The Republic a clipping from his home town paper, which, under glaring headlines, devotes half a col- umn to a story to the effect that Ger- man prisoners are so well fed that women living in the cities near by are up in arms because of waste and the class of food served. He says this particular story is a fair sample of the news this paper prints weekly, in a community of German folk. (It is not denied by Washington that German prisoners in America are well fed. They are. But there is no waste, and the women living near the camps are not up in arms because of either the food served or the waste which the Benton paper says is so ap- parent). LIE No. 59. Propagandists are cir- culating a story that boys in the can- tonments are not permitted to see home newspapers, so they cannot tell what is going on in their home towns or in the world in general. (Quite naturally, there is no truth in this story. The Republic is able to nail this lie. This paper circ lates in cantonments and at tr: ing camps). (Continued next week). Heard in a Store. “When's it goin’ to come off, Jen?” “My weddin’? Oh, next month, if Jim can get a week off frem his job. I think he’ll be able to; you see it ain’t as if he were askin’ for a vaca- tion to have a good time.” | FARM NOTES. | Rl —Gardening Hints for May.—This {is the month in which the bulk cf the ; garden produce is put in. Early cab- | bage, potatoes and cauliflower plants ‘should all be set by this time. Some ‘suggestions come from Pennsylvania | State College vegetable gardening ex- | perts. Sweet corn and garden beans may I be started soon after the first of the month, if the gardener is inclined to | be venturesome. If the late frosts do inot get these plantings, there will be extra early sweet corn and snap ibenas: The safe date is usually May 115, at which time a second planting i should be made, in order to provide a | succession. Through this month, small weekly i plantings should be made of lettuce {and radishes, in order to supply the ! table with these relishes at their best. { For the later plantings, use the white i radishes. They do not become so hot ‘as the red ones. i The early beets, carrots, spinach {and radishes started in the latter part ‘of April should be thinned to stand ‘from one to three inches apart. Cul- | tivate to discourage small weeds. If weed control is begun at this time | thre will be fewer weeds to combat ater on. For the southern tier of Pennsylva- nia counties, May 15 is the safe date for setting cucumbers, tomatoes, pep- pers and eggplants. In the central and northern parts of the State it may , be wise to wait a week or ten days, | except possibly in the case of toma. | toes. Transplanting of these vegeta- | bles must be done carefully, the | plants watered and shaded, if the soil is dry and the sun bright and hot. The disease known as “club root,” “fingers-and-toes,” and “club,” at- tacks a large number of our cultivat- ed and native plants that belong to the mustard family—especially cab- bage. The estimated loss in Pennsyl- ( vania last year was five per cent. of ‘ the plants. It is quite as severe on cauliflower and Brussels sprouts and may do much damage to turnips and radishes. The disease may be readily recog- nized in the advanced stages by the much enlarged and frequently knotty roots. The plants often become in- fected in the seedling stage before transplanting. It is therefore of great {importance that seedlings be carefully | scrutinized and those with root swell- | ings destroyed by boiling in hot water jor by burning. : i Plants may also become infected in : the field from soil infested with the organism of previously infected crops. [It is therefore important that soils iknown to have produced diseased | plants be avoided for planting these Crops. | _ Experiments conducted by The i Pennsylvania State College depart- iment of botany and horticulture on limestone soil indicate that fall plow- ing followed by the application of lime in the spring will prevent the devel- opment of club-root the third season after application. Plots plowed in the spring and treated in the same way have failed to produce as good plants as those plowed in the fall. Bordeaux mixture of the 4-4-50 for- mula applied as a drench to the soil at the rate of 440 gallons an acre proved to be somewhat more effective than lime. i —This year, for obvious reasons as- sociated with the influence of war up- on all forms of endeavor, those who want to set out shade trees, turn their minds to trees which will produce something. There is something to be said in fayor of fruit trees along the Lincoln Highway, or the country lane, or the lane to your front door, but the purpose of a shade tree and the limi- tations of all species of trees should be considered before giving up the Sherished American elm for a cherry Tee. Our list of shade trees suitable for highway purposes is much shorter than that of lawn shade trees. The ideals are different. On the lawn use as many low-branched flower and fruit-producing species as may be de- sired, bearing in mind that most fruit trees must be pruned and sprayed reg- ularly to produce fruit; that such pruning, to a great degree, injures their aesthetic value, and that foliage blue-stained with Bordeaux mixture is not attractive. We are thus limited to a very few species of orchard trees which might be used sparingly as shade tree sub- stitutes. They are for highway use the sweet cherries—subject to borers —life about forty years; pears—sub- ject to sudden blight—life twenty years. For lawns, we may enlarge this list to include the sour cherries, plums, peaches, quinces, which are desirable bushes, crab-apples and apricots. As none of these are long-lived, dignified, protective trees, handsome and inspir- ing in form and dignity, it is ques- tionable how far the idea may be car- fe of substituting orchard trees for shade. —The peach growers of northern and some parts of western Pennsylva- nia face a serious situation due to the extreme low temperatures the past winter. The wood froze to the trunks in many cases, while in virtually all cases buds and small twigs froze. Heroic measures are necessary to save trees so damaged. The best treat- ment is ‘“dehorning.” The frozen wood may be cut back as far as the damage extends, even to the trunks, although in such extreme cases it is more practical to remove the injured tree and plant a new one. Where the injury extends only to the larger limbs, the dehorned trees will put out a heavy new growth and form a new head in a year. On this new wood there will be fruit-buds, so that in many cases the crop the fol- lowing year is not much reduced. De- horning should be done early in May, when the buds are beginning to push out. At that time the ends of the limbs will not dry out, and the large cuts will heal quickly. ; Intensive cultivation is essential after dehorning. Cultivate the ground thoroughly every ten or fifteen days so as to maintain a good dust mulch until July 15. Then sow the best cov- er-crop for the locality, preferably one of the clovers. Unless the trees are cultivated they will put out a very short growth and most likely succumb the following winter. Do not cultivate after July 15.—Pennsylvania State College. Wi |S
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers