g
:
Dewavrafic Alaina
Bellefonte, Pa., January 3, 1919.
IF AOA wl HE El
The Fusilier Giants
Under Fire
g
Empey
Author of “Over the Top,”
“First Call,” Etc.
o—-0-0
Mr. Empey’s Experi-
ences During HisSeven-
teen Months in theFirst |
Line Trenches of the
British Army in France
(Copyright, 1917, br The McClure Newspaper
yndicate)
We were sitting on a firestep in the
front line trench. It was bright and
sunny and we were bubbling over with
good humor. There were two reasons
for this: First—our battalion was to
be relieved at nine that night and we
were going back for a two weeks’
rest. Second—it was spring. We could
smell it in the air. Even the wind
blowing from the German trenches in
our direction had a sweet and
“springy” smell.
About thirty yards down a communi-
cation trench to the left was an or-
chard. The trees were scarred from
bullets and fragments of shell; but
even these battered trunks could not
resist the feel of spring, because here
and there on the twigs and branches
could be seen bursting buds. Flitting
around were numerous birds, chirping,
and sometimes wrangling among them-
selves.
To me it seemed odd that birds could
accustom themselves to war. Occa-
sionally a German shell, or perhaps
one of ours, would go screaming over
the orchard. The birds did not seem
to mind the noise—just carried on
with their nest-building.
In our company was an American
named Alexander Stewart. Naturally
he and I were very chummy.
Stewart and I were the chief
“amusement promoters” in the com-
pany, the Tommies constantly looking
to us for some new diversion.
In the English army a Tommy seems
to have the idea that an American's
chief vocation in the United States is
to invent, and to keep on inventing.
Of course, Stewart and I did not in
any way try to dissipate this idea; in
fact, we encouraged it, and took great
pride in being looked up to in this
way ; but, believe me, it kept us hust-
ling to keep the Tommies amused.
It was getting too warm for soccer
football, and we knew as soon as we
got into rest billets that the issue
would be put right up to us: “How
are you going to amuse us while be-
hind the lines?”
We were Americans, and red-blood-
ed; spring was in the air, and our
thoughts turned to what every Ameri-
can boy is thinking of upon the arrival
of spring—baseball.
I turned my eyes to the muddy para-
dos (rear wall of the trench) and fixed
my gaze on a fragment of German
shell embedded in the mud. Pretty
soon this fragment seemed to change
into a baseball player, with mask, pro-
tector and catcher’s mitt. He was
crouching behind the home plate and
signaling to the pitcher. Just then
Stewart said: “Say, Emp, I wonder
if we could teach the Tommies how to
play baseball?” :
I immediately turned in his direction.
He was also staring at that fragment
of shell.
I answered: “Did you ever try to
teach a Chinaman how to speak
French?”
He got it right away and a dejected
look spread over his countenance, and
he let out a long-drawn sigh.
A Tommy sitting on my right butted
in with: “Did you sye byseball, Yank?
Why, I saw a gyme in London, and it
is absurdly easy to plye, but I cawn’'t
sye I fawncy R'it.”
With a look of disgust Stewart
turned «: me and sald: “I gu :< vou're
right, Hp, it would be easier t» {each
the Chipman French.”
-« ‘That aight we were relleved and
went behind the lines.
* The next afternoon, after parade,
-we ware sitting in an orchard drinking
-tea. About a month before, Stewart
-and I had tqught the Tommies how to
-pitch horseshoes. There was great
‘rivalry among the different squads,
.each squad having a team.
+ suse ¢hen Corporal Watkins came
‘over to us and asked: “Where are the
gorse shoes? I cawn't find ‘em.”
Another Tommy answered: “Strafe
Yné pink, where are your h'eyes?
Tawn't you bloomin’ well see the h'of-
ficers usin’ 'em be'ind that billet over
there? Blime me, they're alw'ays
a’gummin’ the gyme."
Sure enough, the officers were using
our horseshoes.
Stewart, with a look of depression
on his face, turned to me and said:
«Well, here goes, Emp. Steve Brodie
took a chance, so I might be able to
get away with this.”
Then, turning to the Tommies, he
said: - “Did any of you blokes ever
hear of John McGraw?”
Three of the Tommies answered,
“Yes.”
A sunny smile and a look of hope
flitted across Stewart's face, and he
breathlessly asked, “Who is he?” The
three started to answer at once, but
Stewart, majestically extending his
band, palm -forward, said, “Get in
y
Sergeant Arthur Guy
line, one at a time. Now, Perkins, whe
! is John McGraw?”
| Perkins answered: “Why, ‘e's &
| lawnee corporal in the Royal Irish
Rifles.”
According to Stewart's
Tommy should have
dropped dead.
Turning to the next, he said, “‘Cui-
ly,’ for the love o’ Mike, who is he?”
Curly, with a Knowing look, an-
swered, “'E runs the King's Arms
public ’ouse, down Rye lane.”
look, ihat
immediatei;
With a piteous look, Stewart
| glanced my way and I jerked my
thumb in the direction of the other
Tommy, whe seemed to, be bursting
with suppressed eagerness. Stewart,
looking at him, ejaculated, “Spit it
out before you choke.”
This fellow, with a superior air,
turned in the direction of the two de-
jected Tommies, and answered, “John
MacGraw, why everybody knows ‘im;
'e was the fellow in the London Scot-
tish who clicked ‘crucifixion’ for
stealing the rum issue at 'Wipeirs’. 'E
was a lad, not ’arf he weren't.”
A hissing noise issued from Stew-
art’s lips, and he seemed to collapse
like a punctured toy balloon. After
a few seconds he straightened up and
a look of determinaticn came into his
eyes. Addressing the Tommies, he
exploded: “You blokes are enough to
make Billy Sunday take to drink. Now,
listen here, and let it sink in deep.
John McGraw is the manager of the
New York Giants. He is a baseball
player; get it? A baseball player. A
guy what manages a baseball team.
And any fellows who can’t make good
on his team, or in the bush leagues,
he sends ’em a cricket bat with their
name inscribed on it and pays their
passage to England. Get me?”
Several Tommies took exception to
this, and said that they had followed
cricket all their lives, but had never
heard of any American cricketers be-
Ing sent over by a Mr. McGraw. At
this I exploded, and Stewart went up
in the :.ir. Standing up and turning
to the bunch under the trees, point-
ing his finger in their direction, he
let out:
“Now listen, this is good. I'm go-
ing to send down to the ordnance
corps and get a dozen gimlets and
some funnels. With these gimlets I'm
going to bore holes in your ‘npappers,
and using the funnel I'm going to pour
into those garrets of yours a little
brains. Then, after you've acquired
gray matter, I'm going to teach you
the great American game of baseball;
and then when through teaching you,
I'm going to retire to the Old Soldiers’
heme as physically and mentally un-
fit, because I know the job will put
me there.”
. The Tommies did not take excep-
tion to his pointed remarks about their
lack of brains. They overlooked this
because they were very eager to learn
how to play baseball.
A chorus of, “Go to h'it, Yank, that’s
what we want; something new out
‘ere in this bloody mess of mud and
‘cooties.” ”
Stewart said that we would have to
talk the matter over, and beckoning
to me, went in the direction of the
billet. I followed. He then outlined
his scheme. :
We were to form two baseball
classes, Stewart in charge of one, 1
the other. On the plaster of the billet
we carefully scratched out a baseball
diamond, and then called the Tommies
in. They sat around like little chil-
dren in a school, eagerly intent. For
two hours we explained the game to
them. When we got through they all
knew how to play baseball—on paper.
We dismissed them, telling them an-
other class would be held the follow-
Ing afternoon. That night, Stewart
and I, around the stump of a candle,
went into details for organizing two
teams. Everything appeared rosy, and
we were highly jubilant. A Tommy
eased over in our direction and inno-
cently asked:
“I sye, Yank, isn’t it necessary to
‘ave byseballs and clubs? We cawn’t
very well pl'y without em.”
This was a bombshell to us. In our
eagerness and excitement we had quite
forgotten that bats, balls and gloves
were necessary. I thought Stewart
was going to burst. Letting out a “Well,
I'll be blowed !” which nearly blew the
candle out, he turned a silly look in
my direction, and I looked just as
cheap.
At last the Tommies had stumped
us, and we could see our reputation
fading into nothing. . A dead silence
reigned for over five minutes. Then
Stewart started madly to open his hav-
ersack. I thought he had suddenly
gone crr.zy. I reached my hand in the
direction. of my bayonet, fearing that
he was looking for a Mills’ bomb.
When he drew his hand out, hanging
to his fist was a writing pad. I let go
of my bayonet. Borrowing a pencil
from me (Stewart was always borrow-
ing), he started writing. I thought per-
haps he was going to commit suicide
and was writing a farewell letter home,
and asked him what was up. He
whispered to me:
“Emp, we're two bloody fools not to
have thought of this long ago. All
we've got to do is to write home to one
of the New York papers, asking the
readers to send out baseball stuff to
us, and it will only be a matter of a
few weeks when we will have enough
to equip two teams.”
I offered to write the letter, and
with Stewart bending over me, I
eagerly wrote an appeal to the readers
of a New York newspaper, and turned
the letter over to the mail orderly.
We then explained to the Tommies
that equipment was necessary and that
we had written home, but while wait-
ing for the baseball stuff to arrive we
would carry on with our instruction
classes,
The next day Stewart and I.made a
woolen baseball out of an old puttee,
fixed up a temporary diamond, and
showed the Tommies the general rua
of the game. Their antics were awful.
If we had used a regular baseball 1
don’t think there would have been a
Tommy in the squad without a black
eye. Did you ever “watch a girl trying
to catch a ball? Weil, the girl’s team
olongside of some of these Tommies
would have looired iike the winner in
our world’s series. It was hard work
keeping their interest up.
Two weeks later we went up into the
front line; then ¢ame back again for
another rest. The interest in baseball
was dying out and w were at our wit §
end. Time passed, and we figured out
that we ought to be hearing from our
!appeal, but nothing came. Then, once
| again we went into the front line
trench.
The Tommies were very skeptical
{and every time baseball was men-
| tioned they would gaze in our direction
| with a sneering look. This completely
got our goats.
One evening we were sitting in a
dugout of the support trench; it was
raining like the mischief, and we were
cold and downhearted. Pretty soon
the rations came up. The ration party
generally brings the rations down into
the dugouts, but the two men carrying
our “dixie” set it down in the mud of
the trench and almost “shot the
chutes” down the entrance to the dug-
out. They were breathless with ex-
citement. One of them yelled out:
“Yank, there’s a limber full of par-
cels down in the reserve dugout.
They're all addressed to you, h’'Em-
pey, and they're from America.”
Stewart lat out a shout and I felt
warm all over. How we lorded it
over those poor Tommies. That night
we were to be relieved and go back
to rest billets. We could hardly wait
for the time.
The next morning was Sunday, and
after church parade we made a mad
rush to the orderly room to get our
mail.
The quartermaster sergeant was
waiting for me, and behind him stood
every officer in the company, trying
to disguise the expectant look on their
faces. Every eye was turned in the
direction of a heap of parcels. I
thought the “quarter” never would
start. Even the captain could not
stand it, and giving way to his eager-
ness, said: “Sergeant, you had bet-
ter issue the mail.”
Stewart and I were all anxiety.
Then, stooping down, the sergeant
took up a parcel and read off: “Em-
pey, No. 5203,” and threw it over to
me. I caught it on the fly. The ser-
geant kept on reading out “Empey,”
and parcels came through the air like
a bombardment.
The first parcel I picked up was
stamped “Passed by Censor,” and con-
Contained Twelve Brand-New Base-
balls.
tained twelve brand-new baseballs, or
at least, eleven, and the remains of
one. This twelfth ball was stamped,
“Opened by Censor,” but search as 1
could, I could find no stamp reading
“Sewed Up by Censor.” We did the
sewing up, but that ball looked like a
duck’s egg when we had finished
Stewart and I roundly cussed the cen-
sor. Later, we both cussed the inven-
tor of baseball. There was a rea-
son.
The readers of the newspaper ap-
pealed to had nobly responded to our
appeal, There were enough gloves
and balls for two teams, and even a
chest protector and mask. The mask
was an article of great curiosity to all.
Some of them thought it was a bomb
protector. Every one in turn tried it
on, and every one, upon learning that
the catcher was to wear the mask,
wanted immediately to sign up for
the position. Stewart and I could
have been elected to parliament right
there, if these Tommies could have
had their way.
The next afternoon the candidates,
forty in all, and the whole company,
turned out en masse on the baseball
field, which we had laid out during
our previous stay in rest billets.
From that day on, Stewart and I
led a dog's life. Though on paper
everything looked bright, and the can-
didates were letter perfect in the
game, or thought they were, on the
field they were dubs of the worst cali-
ber—regular boneheads. If McGraw
of the Giants had had that mob
wished on him he would have chucked
up his job and taken the stump for
woman suffrage; So you can appre-
clate our fix.
Stewart was a really good pitcher;
plenty of curved stuff, having played
semi-pro ball in the United States. It
“was _my_ intention to catch for him,
EE ——————————
end fill in the other positions with tie
most likely candidates. This scheme
did not work in with the popular ver-
sion a little bit.
ing for the team, twenty-eight insist-
ed on being catcher.
wear that mask. If there had been #
camera, each of the forty would have
had a photo taken of himself wearing
the “wire cage.” Here was a great
Gilemma. At that time I was only a
private, and there were sergeants, cor-
porals, and even an officer, who want- |
Stewart again came to |
ed to catch.
the rescue. Calling me aside, he said:
“Leave it to me, Emp, I'll fix ‘em.
I'll try out each one in turn. Let them |
wear the mask, and I'll send in some |
curves, and when the ball cracks them
on the shins a couple of times you
couldn’t pay ’em to put on the cage.”
The Tommies were strange to curved
balls, and Stewart had speed. It did
my heart good to see him dampen their
ardor and dent their anatomy at the
same time. The Tommies would see
the ball coming to them and would
"reach up their hands to get it. Then
the ball would “break” and hit them
on the shin or knee. After five or six
had retired, rubbing sore spots and
cussing Stewart out, no one else want-
ed to catch, and the situation was
saved.
Tommy is a natural born soccer
player and clever with his feet, but
stupid with his hands when it comes
to baseball. Several of them had a
bad habit of stopping grounders with
their feet, especially our shortstop. He
would see a hot grass-eater coming his
way, then, instead of using his hands,
he would put his foot in front of it.
The ball would climb his leg and get
him on the chin or in the eye. After
receiving a puffed-up lip and a beauti-
ful black eye, he flatly refused to play
unless I would let him wear the mask.
| Americans, picture a shortstop wear-
ing a catcher’s mask, and then sym-
pathize with Stewart and me. The
shortstop was a sergeant, and through
, diplomatic reasons, I gave the mask
to him. At this every infielder wanted
to wear it. Stewart solved the prob-
lem by putting in another shortstop
and giving me the mask.
In England they have a game called
| “rounders,”
posed to hit the baserunner with the
ball to put him out. This is general-
‘ly a tennis ball and does not hurt very
much. vg Tie
Well, those Tommies had a habit of
lamming the baseball with all their
might at the unfortunate runner. Many
an early practice was broken up this
' way, because the team would lose in-
terest in baseball when they had a
' chance to view a fight between a giver
and a receiver. ni
| After about ten days’ practice we
had picked two pretty fair teams and
arranged for a scrub game. Stewart's
| side won, due to his pitching.
- Then, as is usual in baseball, things
began to happefi. A jinx seemed to
rest on our candidates. Every time we
had to go up the line on a workin,
party, one or two of the players es
get wounded or killed; in fact, being
a baseball player got to be a perfect
, Jonah, and the Tommies commenced
getting superstitious. If one of our
, team happened to be working among
ten or twelve other company men, he
, was sure to get hit, while the other fel-
lows came through without a scratch.
Stewart and I also began to get fright-
ened, and decided to chuck up the
| whole thing beforé we got it ourselves.
| Then we went further back behind
the lines. During this stay we rounded
out a passable team.
| A Canadian battalion, just sent out
; from England, on their way to
“Wipers,” went into billets about a
mile from us. This was our chance.
| Stewart went over and challenged
| them to a game for the following Sun-
i day. The challenge was accepted.
We had a week's time In which to
strengthen some weaknesses and to
teach the bunch a little “inside” base-
pall. Then the jinx popped up again.
On the morning of the game with
the Canadians, our cleverest infielder,
the first baseman, picked up an old
German hand grenade and brought it
to the billet. This man was a great
souvenir collector; always hammering
at “dud” shells, trying to remove the
nose-caps.
Seeing him fooling around with the
German bomb, I told hinr to throw it
away; that one could never trust those
things, and that.I did not want to take
any chu. s of losing a first “man ;
as
but being of a naturally curious dispo-
sition, he refused to do so. Taking the
bomb out behind the billet, he proceed-
ed to take liberties with its mechan-
ism; result, right hand blown off and
another vacancy to be filled at first
base. What we said about him would
not be fit for publication.
The game was scheduled for two
o'clock, and exactly at one-thirty-five
Mr. Fritz plunked a stray “five nine”
shell into our infield between home
and first base, making a hole big
enough for a limber to hide in. This
meant picks and shovels for all hands
to fill in the hole.
By this time a large crowd of root-
ers for both sides had lined themselves
along the foul lines. The compliments
that were wafted back and forth made
the chaplain pack up and leave before
the game started.
Then the betting commenced. It
waxed hot and furious. I don’t be-
lieve there was a loose penny in the
crowd after all bets had been placed.
Stewart and I tried to discourage this
betting because we knew that if we
lost we would be ostracized from that
time on. We explained to the Tom-
mies that the Canadians were base-
ball players, and that we were in for
an awful trimming, but they wouldn't
listen, saying that anybody who could
make a ball curve in the air the way
Stewart could was enough to-win for
Out of the forty try- |
They wanted to |
in which you are sup-'
any team, and that all the Canadians
"would strike out. We insisted no fur-
! ther.
We came to bat first. Cur first man
| up got beaned, and instead ef taking
first base he went out into the pitch-
| er’s box to lick the pitcher. After 2
| little argument we managed to mer
{ him on first.
The Canadian pitcher was wila.
{ The next ball went over the catcher’s
| head and our runner took second.
The next man up struck out.
| the right fielder dropped the ball, and
of me moving to third base.
Stewart got up and placed a corking
| double out into left feld.’ Stewart
was a fast runner.
home, touched third,
the runner in
front of me plowing along for home |
plate. He ran like an ice wagon. I
was shouting to him to hurry up. I
could hear Stewart pounding behind
me. The Tommy’s cap blew off, and
| instead of going home he stopped to |
| pick it up. Stewart was shouting,
“Leg it, here comes the ball,” as he
! slid into third base. I could not pre-
: cede the runner in, SO we were trapped
' for a double play. Stewart's angora
‘was bristling and mine was tugging
at its chain.
. The Canadian rooters were tickled
to death, their sarcastic remarks burn-
ing into Stewart and me. Stewart was
| fast losing his temper.
The first two Canadians struck out.
The third man up got his base on a
passed third strike. My error.
Then our substitute first baseman
pulled a stunt which turned the tables
on the Canadians and we were some-
what appeased.
The Canadian runner was laying a
few feet off first base. Suddenly our
first baseman shouted to him, “Look
, out, ‘ere comes a shell; duck low n
The Canadian dropped to the ground.
Stewart instantly sized up the situa-
tion and tossed the ball to the first
baseman, who touched the baserunner
' and three were out. We had got our
own back. Stewart and I could have
both kissed that rube first baseman of
| ours. Right then and there we put
him in a class with Hal Chase.
Up to the fourth inning neither side
scored. Stewart was pitching in fine
form. The Canadians just couldn't
connect with hig delivery, Ali they
| were doing was fanning the air. The
Canadian rooters commenced to get’
frightened because they saw their
money disappearing into the Tommies’
pockets. They had the greatest con-
tempt for the rest of the team, myself
included, but realized that if Stewart
did not weaken it would be a case of
their going back to billets broke.
Shen old Mr; Jinx butted in again,
nd it happened. « =. [TR
In the British army there is an of-
| der to the effect that gas helmets must
; be carried at all times, even while
“sleeping. To disobey this order is a
' serious offense, and means immediate
| confinement.” These gas helmets are
"in a canvas bag and are slung around
the left shoulder by means of a can-
vas. strap.
In pitching, Stewart’s gas helmet
bothered him greatly, and after the sec-
ond inning he took it off. I warned him
| to be careful, because I noticed several
military police in the crowd. But Stew-
‘ art would not listen. He always was
pig-headed. i .
One of the Canadian rooters spotted
: that Stewart had laid aside his hel-
met, and artfully communicated this
' fact to the rest of his team’s rooters. I
noticed the rooters crowd around him
for three or four minutes, and then a
great laugh went up and they stretched
out along the foul lines.
Suddenly, one fellow, getting out in
front of the bunch, like a cheer leader,
counted, “One, two, three.” Then up
went a mighty chorus of, “Hey, Stew-
art, where's your gas helmet, where's
your old gas bag, where's your old gas
bag?' They kept this up and it got
Stewart’s goat. I went out into the
pitcher's box and warned him to put on
his gas helmet, but still pig-headed,
he refused to do so. He was in an aw-
ful temper.
A sergeant of the military police was
watching the game, and hearing the
cries of the rooters he walked out on
the diamond and asked Stewart where
his helmet was. By this time Stewart
had completely lost his temper and an-
swered with a sneer: “Where do you
think it is? I sent it home for a sou-
venir.” The sergeant explained to him
l
8
fn Ri
stmt’ si tr acer
that it was against army orders to be
without a gas helmet, and that he had
better put it on. Stewart would not
listen to him, and answered: “Well, if
He Was in an Awful Temper,
it's against orders, get them rescind-
ed” The sergeant immediately put
him under arrest and marched him off
‘the diamond.
i
I batted third, hit to the outfield, |
I reached second, the runner ahead i
Then
I started for
Our hopes were dashed; I could. see
the game going west. We had no other
good pitcher to pt in.
Upon seeing Stewart's arres
Canadian rootcers kept up the
shouting. We were sure up agains
Here was the sitoation.
1b eo
tt
last half of the fourth in x
were out. If, by luck, we n to
get the third Canadian out, it would
be an easy matter for them to retire
us in the next inning beeause
weakest batting order was up.
: the Canadians would come to bat and
slaughter would commence.
T was in despair. Stewart must have
realized that the game was hopeless
unless: it could be fi ed in this inn-
ing, because as he passed me he whis-
| pered, “Watch out for gas; T'll make
! them hunt for their gas helmets. ll
be a long time before that bunch of
‘maple leafs’ forget this game. Now,
| wet wise. Delay the game as much as
possible while getting a dab to pitch
{ in my place. Then watch for happen-
! ings. Get me? Are you wise?”
I didn’t “get him,” nor was I “wise,”
but I answered in the affirmative. I
followed his instructions, while out of
the corner of my eye I watched him on
his way to the company billet.
He called a man named Stein, a
member of our company, who thought
no more of losing a franc than he did
of having his right arm shot off. Stein
went over to Stewart, who whispered
to him and passed him something.
\Vhat struck me as strange was the
fact that Stein, who had fifteen francs
on the game, instead of coming back to
watch the game, disappeared behind
the billet, while Stewart was marched
| off to “clink.” i
The rooters were getting impatient,
so I put a big Welshman in to pitch. I
i told the umpire that according to the
i rules a pitcher being put in “cold” was
| allowed four balls over the plate to
| warm up. The umpire agreed to this.
I whispered to the Welshman, “Get out
in that box and take your time, delay-
ing the game as much as possible be-
tween each pitch. Now, you are al-
lowed four balls over the plate in
which to warm up. Slam ’em into me,
' put if you put one of them over, our
goose is cooked.” |
The Welshman was mystified, but
followed my instructions to the letter.
He threw four balls which nearly
broke my back to get. Then the um-
pire held up his hand and called, “Play
ball!® I immediately went over to him
and explained that these four balls
had not gone over the plate. He fell
for this and agreed with me. After
that rube of a pitcher had thrown
about fifteen or sixteen balls, several
passing mé, which I chased to the bil-
let to waste time, the umpire got im-
patient and the rooters wer2 yelling
like mad to carry on. I still insisted
{hat none of the balls had gone over
the plate, and the umpire was in a
quandary. Just then one of our men
passed in the rear of me and whis-
pered: “Stewart says to go on with
the game.” Wondering at this infor-
mation, I started in. a
“he pitching of that Welshman was
awful. He hit the first two men up
and walked thc third. I was in despair,
bases full and two out. Some Of the
Canadian rooters were jumping up and
down, throwing their hats in the air,
and one fellow was whistling “The
Star-Spangled Banner.” This got my
goat completely. oh
Near every billet hangs a gas gong.’
This is a triangular piece of steel or
an empty shell case. Beside this gong
hangs an iron striker. Upon the
sounding of the alarm, by striking on
the gong with the striker, every man
is supposed to put on his gas helmet
and repair immediately to his proper
station. These gongs are to warn sol-
diers that German poison gas is com-
ing over.
While T was signaling to my rube
pitcher and beseeching him to put one
over, the clanging of the gas gong rang
out. I dropped my glove, got off my
chest protector, and madly rushed for
my helmet and soon had it on, the
rooters and players doing the same.
‘Then I got wise. I remembered Stew-
art's instructions: “Watch out for gas.
T'll make ‘em hunt for their gas hel-
mets.” The nerve and daring of his
scheme took my breath away. The
Canadians had a mile to go to get to
their stations, and believe me, it is no
fun double-timing for a mile while a
‘gas helmet is choking you with its
chemical fumes.
Well, those Canadians beat it, and so
did we, but the game was saved and
all bets were off.
I nesrly smothered with laughter in
my gas helmet. To the rest, not being
“in the know,” it was a genuine alarm.
Shortly after the stampede it was dis-
covered that the alarm was false, and
a rigid investigation immediately took
place. But the Canadians had left and
our money was safe. It certainly would
have gone hard with the culprit had
he been caught. As it was, our bat-
talion got two weeks as extra fatigue
on working and digging parties.
Afterward, I was let into the secret.
Stewart had given Stein ten francs to
sound the gas alarm, which, with his
fifteen francs bet on the game, Stein
did not have it in his heart to refuse.
Many a time, Stewart, Stein and my-
self had a quiet little laugh when we
pictured the Canadians stampeding for
their billets.
Then orders were received to take
over a new sector of the line, and base-
ball was forgotten. The work in front
of us was to be of the grimmest nature.
Not long after that, in my first going
“over the top,” Stewart was killed and
Stein was wounded. I was also slight-
ly wounded.
Thus ended the career of the Fusilier
Giants on the western front.
our
mh 3
nen,
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