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Bellefonte, Pa., October 4, 1918.
WRITES WITHIN SOUND OF A i
RAGING BATTLE. |
From the Williamspert Sun. |
The following soldier’s letter is !
unique because it was written under
the stimulus and within the area and
sound of a battle then going on, and |
second while no one could suspect it !
from the text, by a boy whose pre-
war views of life would almost place
him in the pacifist class. The S. K.!
& F. soldiers’ club to whom he writes, |
is an organization of the employees |
of the Smith, Kline & French Co., |
druggists, of Philadelphia, with whom |
the writer was formerly identified. |
The writer, William B. Clare, is
well known to drug trade in this city, |
and has been here on a number of oc- |
casions. Frank Kilgus, of this city, |
who travels for the same firm, and |
who belongs to the same club, permits
The Sun to publish the letter, which
will no doubt be read with interest.
The letter in part follows:
To the Soldiers’ Club S. K. & F. Co.
“On the Firing Line,
France, Aug. 8.
“Herewith begins a letter that may |
at any time be interrupted by some
iron rations from the German batter-
ies that lay about five kilometres
ahead of us; some few days ago in
the stress of battle I received a pack-
age of papers and a letter from you |
fine folks back there in Philly; yes- |
terday I received some cootie catch-
ers from Mr. R. and today another |
batch of papers and magazines. It |
sure felt good to look at a regular old
Philly paper once more and the boys
are all in their dugouts undisturbed
by the shells reading them while I
try to snatch time to write you a few
lines in reply. I have received some
few letters from those outside of the |
S. K. F. Soldiers’ club, too; no doubt
they were shown my last letter and
they believed what I said that a let-
ter means more to a soldier than any-
thing else. I sure appreciate those
letters already received. Words fail
me when I try to say or write just
how much I do appreciate it. I want
to warn you that this may be a rath- |
er irrational letter, for shells are
bursting not further than fifty yards |
away and just in front there is a bat-
tery of huge American guns, and
when they bark they shake the ground
like an earthquake. We belong to
the American army in the Chateau-
Thierry Sector that has been ham-
mering hell out of the Huns for the
last month and, tell the world it’s no
soft job. I've been shelled so muchl
feel like a peanut; in fact, I feel lone-
some when they let up for a few min-
utes. The Hun batteries keep about
four to five miles to the rear of the
retreating army and just shell hell
out of us all the time. Our batteries
have their hands full shelling the re-
treating armies.
“We have been in the line since Ju- |
ly 4th and going forward day by day.
All along the line there are ruined
French villages all renamed by the
Germans. Even the streets are re-
named such as, Von Hindenburg
Weg, or Kaiser Weg or something
similar. The funny part is the main
road they called the Path to Glory
and it led to Paris, the Yanks have
renamed it the Path to Glory again,
only this time the sign posts point to
Berlin instead of Paris. German am-
munition lies all along the road, here
and there a shattered gun testifying
to the accuracy of the American gun-
nery, and then the piles of German
dead, sometimes fifty to sixty to a
pile, then a little pile of four or five
with a single khaki uniform, his hand
on his Gat, showing he got his Boches
before they got him. It’s always
thus, all along the line. It’s costing
us blood and men to drive through—
damn them, they can’t stop us, they
won’t fight square! While the main |
German army, the first division of
Prussian Guards, are retreating lick-
ed to a frazzle by the insignificant
Yankee militia they scoffed at; while
they are retreating they leave behind
therm machine gun nests manned by
Bavarians with plenty of ammuni-
tion to hold up the line and when
good Americans charge them with
cold steel and they are on the verge
of being captured they throw up
their arms and yell “Kamarad.” The
damn dirty dogs think they will get
mercy after Americans have seen
their buddies killed by their side. Do
they get it? Like hell they do. No
prisoner captured here only when
they are caught by companies, and to
date we have caught 40,000 since July
15th, not so bad for the militia is it;
especially when they are fighting the
far-famed Prussian Guard, the elite
of the German army?” The dirty
dogs even use women. I was in the
rear of a charge on a certain woods
that was full of machine gun nests
in trees. A whole regiment of the so-
called insignificant militia who hail
from Philly charged up this hill to-
ward those woods with machine guns
spitting fire and the rat-to-tat-tat of
the bullets making a deafening noise
and the bullets going ping-ping-ping
all around you, men dropping by your
side cursing the Huns, and when they
reached the top every Hun machine
gunner yelled “Kamarad” and when
the cold steel began to go home I
saw in two different instances gray
uniforms torn open and women’s na-
ked breasts displayed and they ex-
pected mercy because of their sex,
and like the damn fools we are, they
were given it. God knows how many
good Americans these Amazons kill-
ed before they realized their sexual
difference. It’s hell, I tell you, the
way these Germans fight, they use
every cunning device they can. Their
artillery is good, but the infantry
can’t fight without it. They even
take their areoplanes and paint the
French colors on them and swoop
down back of our line and pour ma-
chine gun fire into our lads waiting
behind some trench.
We have been in three wicked en-
gagements and have been under con-
stant shell fire since July 14th. It’s a
veritable hell, and at the present
time every man is on an edge. We
eat when we can, sleep less, and al-
ways are on the go, till a man’s
i ly way an American will come back
i take prisoners.
| These details are not inspiring I will
| cares, for if some of us go west with
fight his own mother-in-law. The
French and British are relieved every
ten days, but Black Jack says the on-
will be on a stretcher till the Gef-
mans are driven back to the Aisne,
and you can tell the world they are
going, too. I guess the main army
has reached there by this time but
there still remains the ten or twelve
kilom held by those sacrifice outfits
who fight till they are licked and then
want mercy. These Germans expect |
mercy and yet they compel men to
adopt their own savage tactics. You |
can’t expect men to be shelled every
day, to go without sleep and eats for
days and when at the cost of the
lives of your pals and buddies you
take a position held by them and then
It’s too much to ex-
pect from human beings, and you
can tell the world there are few being
taken in these savage hand-to-hand
combats; its only when an entire out-
fit is surrounded that prisoners arc
taken. I’ve seen wounded men lying
in long rows awaiting transporta-
tion back of the lines, and a wound-
ed German comes in on a stretcher,
and I’ve seen stealthy hands, hardly
able to move, slowly grasp the butts
of their gats and bloodless lips drawn
back in a grin of hate, and if inter-
vening hands were not laid on them a
wounded Hun soon would become a
good Hun (a dead one). I’ve seen a
captain in my own outfit, who had
slowly seen his entire company deci-
mated man by man by machine guns
carried into position under the guise
of Red Cross litter bearers, I've seen
that captain wounded in several
places and being treated by us at our
station when he saw a file of German
captives going by, tear himself away
from us and draw his revolver to fire
on them. Who would be responsible, |
him or the dirty devils who invented
the unfair tactics that drove a fair-
minded man like this to lose his
head? This war makes you a Hun
hater, more and more. All the
wounded men want is one more chance
to get back and get even.
Our corps of forty-eight men has
been cut down to thirty-eight in three |
weeks—some killed, some captured |
and some wounded. We work right |
with the men in the line. I’ve dressed |
wounds when the shells were drop- |
ping thick and fast and the machine |
gun bullets were whizzing. I've even |
had wounded men killed in my arms.
I've worked for two days and two |
nights without a thing to eat or a
moment’s rest, with my sleeves rolled
up and blood clean up to my elbows, |
performing all kinds of operations |
myself, not only giving first aid but |
administering morphine and tetanus |
antitoxide in the dark of night, afraid
even to light a match for fear of |
drawing fire, and not only have I !
done it but every one in the sanitary
detachment has done the same.
say, but I wanted you to get a vivia
first-hand picture of actual conditions
at the front.
There is no glamor to this war. It’s
sordid and miserable; it breaks down i
strong men, but we must “carry on”
as the British put it. I never realiz+
ed how much this phrase really
meant till the last month. The Brit-
ish and French have stood this hell
for four years and yet they “carry
on.” What a subject for a service,
or a theme for an address—‘“carry
on” come what may, death, disease,
injury, hardship, suffering, starva-
tion, sacrifice of all kinds, still let us
Americans “carry on” till the foe of
mankind, the instigator of this aw-
ful holocaust, is wiped out of exis-
tence. What matters it if Americans
die, let the glory be theirs that they
died in the advance with the battle
cry of the A. E. F. on their lips—
“The American army always goes
forward.” They tell us we will be re-
lieved when the Crown Prince reach-
es the Aisne Hell. I'm willing to
sleep in this damn French mud, to go
without chuck till Christmas, if they
keep driving them back. Of course,
some of us may go under, but there's
plenty more to take our places, and
if it takes a road built of American
dead from here to the Rhine river,
we are all willing to form one of the
paving blocks and I know I voice the
feeling of most all of us members of
the A. E. F.
This must be an awful letter, but
every time I see one of those Hun
shells strike it drives my pencil on!
faster, but I must close. I could write
for hours and not finish, but it is get- :
ting dark and when darkness comes
hell breaks loose. Tonight about mid-
night our battalion is going to cross
a certain river and I want to get this
letter off by the Y. M. C. A. man, for
there are some of us who are not com-
ing back from that certain river.
Who knows who it will be and who
the other boys we will go with our
faces pointed toward Germany and
with the song on our lips, “It’s a Long
Way to Berlin, But We'll Get There.”
I'll ‘write you how we make out if I
get through; if you don’t hear from
me look in the papers under the col-
umn killed or wounded “in action.”
That’s a story in itself, “in action,”
and you can tell the whole world the
American army in action is a magnif-
icent sight and the Huns realize and
they won’t mix cold steel with us, and
there’s been more Boches shot in the
back by far the last three weeks than |
there has been Yanks shot in the |
front.
Many, many thanks for your kind-
ness of the past, it makes a fellow
feel fine to know the folks with whom
he spent his working hours are think-
ing of him. You are doing fine work,
keep it up and when we pass on con-
tinue the good work to those who fol-
low us, don’t let your interest slack-
en, don’t be dismayed by losses, by
adverses but “carry on” to a complete
finish.
Remember me to all the men and
girls at the office and to various mem-
bers of the firm.
We don’t have either non-coms
(non-commissioned officers) or com-
missioned officers out here, we are all.
ome. The mnon-coms rip off their
stripes and the officers their bars,
they form too good a target for the
Hun snipers, besides shrapnel and
high explosive shells have no respect
for persons and take off just as many
officers as men. Out here we don’t
think of promotions, all we think of
is lickin’ the Huns.
I will write again if—so good luck
nerves get to such a point he would
and good wishes from one American
| thing!”
to the finest bunch of real Americans Paper from Sawdust.
I know, the S. K. F. Soldiers club. : : Fes 3
Sincerely, Newsprint paper from sawdust is
W. B. CLARE. a fact, says American Forestry. Not
P. S—On the Chateau-Thierry only is the idea being worked out in
front with the best little division in the Urited States, but the London
the world. “You know us, AL” Times already is using the material.
France, August 14, 1918. In a recent issue, just received in this
The Soldiers’ Club. country, the Times says editorially:
Dear Friends: Just a line to let , “Sawdustis a by-product produced
you know I came back safe again, I Britain. It takes the place of
{ike the cat. Returned from the front Wood pulp, the importation of which
this morning early, no harm done, IS greatly reduced owing fo govern-
either. Saw a Philly paper and the ment restriction. Sawdust paper is
news has reached you of the good
work of the old N. G. P. The accounts
in the papers were tame compared to
the real thing. Those who really did
the heroic work were left unnoticed,
but who cares, the whole gang really
deserves the credit, not merely one or
two.
We are here waiting for orders,
may have to go back for more. Hope
I am still as fortunate.
Sincerely,
W. B. CLARE.
mills, Aberdeen, where experiments
have been in progress for a consider-
able time and are still being carried
on in the hope of effecting further
improvements.”
The importance of the new process
to the newspaper business cannot be
over-estimated. Sawdust newsprint
paper, if entirely successful, means
alleviation of the threatened famine.
The war, as is generally known, has
forced newsprint paper to new high
rates, and actually has resulted in
scores of small newspapers being
forced out of business, either because
of inability to buy enough paper for
their needs, or inability to pay the
prices demanded by papermakers.
Value for Money.
“I have here a knife,” said the wea-
ry canvasser.
“Don’t want it,” snapped the busy
man.
“It’s an extremely useful article,
sir. Apart from the many blades—"
“Take it away!”
“It has a screwdriver, a tin opener, |
a cigar cutter, a tobacco stripper, a
wire cutter, a button hook, a—"
“I tell you I don’t want it!”
“It further contains a pair of scis-
sors and engraved upon it is the com-
pound interest table, principal cab
fares and the price of the whole thing
complete is one and six-pence.”
“1 yepeat I don’t want the wretched
German Woman Flier is Killed on
West Front.
With the American Army in
France—That the Germans are us-
ing women as military aviators is in-
dicated in a report that in a machine
recently borught down by the Amer-
icans the pilot, who was killed, was a
woman,
The captain of the company of the
167th Infantry says the pilot of a
German plane brought down near
Sergy, August 28, by Lieut, Miller
Thompson of the American air force,
was a woman. The discovery of the
sex of the aviator was made, the cap-
tain says, when his men buried the
“No; I know you don’t. You're one
of those blooming old misers who
won’t buy a knife unless it has a
weekly newspaper, a perpetual sea-
son ticket and an Italian opera com- | enemy pilot and her observer.
pany attached. Well, we’ve give up
inaking that kind in war time at one | Home Folks’ Chance.
and six-pence!”— , i ee
Tieponce London Tit Bits Uncle Sam wants 50,000 doctors
for the army—which is more than
half of the visible supply. This
“She gave her lawyer friend a par- ought to give some of the home folks
adoxical wish.” a chance to save their appendixes—or
“What was it?” is it appendices?”—Los Angeles
“Said she hoped her brief career Times.
would be a long one.”—Baltimore
American.
Literal.
——Subscribe for the “Watchman.”
I
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ESTABLISHED IN 1853.
KODAKS
LEGGETT’S
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PERFUMES
FINE LINE TOILET ARTICLES
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Green’s Pharmacy Co,
was The largest and oldest Drug Store in Centre County
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THIS SPACE CONTRIBUTED BY
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Allegheny St. «.« BELLEFONTE, Pa.
Potato Diggers
The late crop of Potatoes promises to be good and
with the labor question very unsettled, there will
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