APRIL 10.1918.
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Trenches Prove
Hearts of Men
(Continued from page 1)
Near us we were the field guns and away away we the big siege guns. Soon after the firing began we heard the barking of a stalker inside of the French 75's in retaliation.
When one hears the whistle of a shell overhead the danger is already past. The shells that burst overhead come in all unhelaled. Sometimes they come in salvos of three or four and often they come singly. The explosive report of shrapnel is always followed by the hum of flying balls. The big trench mortals al-arab are earth tremble when they explode, shrapnel drops as if they were mere twigs, and the big contact shells make hole eight or ten feet across and send clouds of earth forty or fifty feet into the air
Finally the shelling ceased just as suddenly as it had begun, and we went out of our shelters and started on our tour of the trenches. It was early morning and the air was chilly and damp with fog that hung about in all the low places. Men were standing about their weapons ready to repel any surprise attack, and piled about them were stores of grenades and ammunition. Some of the men were eating bread and cheese. They were all muddy of course, for during their turn in the front trenches they are never permitted to sleep except with their clothes all on ready for instant action.
DOGS USED AS SENTRIES
**DOGS USED AS SENSIBLE LISTERS**
As they go fishing, the trenches we met in French soldiers leading a couple of french dogs. Upon inquiry I found that these two dogs had been with one of the companies for the last two years. They are used as sentries at night. During the day they live in the dugouts and share the best of food with the men. As soon as night comes the dogs are taken up to the foremost observation posts where they stay throughout the night. At all the observation posts there is a specially prepared implementation for them where they lie with their heads just above the parapet, watching and listening for any unusual signs of danger. In the lead of danger they warn their companions by a low, barely audible growl. Throughout their two years in the trenches they have never been known to bark.
About the hour of 8 o'clock men came plodding up the trenches from the kitchens in the rear with buckets of hot soup. Here and there they took shelter to let a shell explode and scatter its deadly pieces about the trench. A man carrying food must be doubly cautious.
MEN DROWNED IN CRATER HOLES
The sights in a strip of country that has been the scene of a deadly engagement leave an indelible impression on the mind. To describe them is impossible, for words cannot paint the picture of a modern battle ground.
This particular battleground was once a forest of good sized trees, but all of the forest that now remains are a few splintered tree trunks that have survived the deadly shell fire. The ground has been torn and return by shells, making craters of all sizes which are now filled with green water which, in some of the craters, is deep enough for a man to drown in. In fact I have heard of several wounded Frenchmen being drowned while crossing this section at night.
Scattered about in such a place is
wreckeage of all kinds. The first thing that strikes your attention is the masses of marled and twisted barbed wire that has been placed before the trenches. Amidst this waste of desolation and ruin are all sorts of rusty implements of war—rifles, grenades, machine guns, bayonets, helmets, gas masks and ammunition just as they were left on the day of the battle.
BODIES LIE UNBURIED
Scattered around among the wreckage are mummy-like forms of fallen Boches. Here and there amid all the wreckage and the bodies one comes occasionally upon a little mound of earth, marked by a small wooden cross bearing the tricolor of France, with its crown of red flowers when I came upon a torn body that had been recently disinterred by a shell.
"A Boche," said my interpreter. He showed no more emotion when he said Boche than if he had been speaking of an empty shell case.
I stooped down and picked up a name plate that lay shining in the mud nearby. Every soldier must wear one of these identification disks.
I picked this one up expecting to find some German name on it, but to my surprise I found the inscription, "Henry Pictc. Chicago. 147 Re."
I handed it over to my companion.
Immediately his face showed deep emotion.
"We thought he had been captured by the Germans," he said. "He was one of our bravest men. He came back from the United States at the beginning of the war to fight for his native country. He has been on the missing side in recent years. October. I must take this identification disc to his company commander."
A little later I saw a detail going toward this spot with shavings and a powder.
BOCHE SHELLS CEMENT.
During my stay at the front I had occasion to visit a small cemetery about a mile back of the lines. In this hallowed spot—and there are many such places along the front—the graves of Alqamis. Their graves, of course, were all pointing toward Mecca. Instead of the cross they had for a headstone the crescent. Not far away were a few mounds that I was told the graves of Protestant soldiers.
The graves that interested me most, however, were over in another corner of the cemetery. These were graves of the Chasseurs--those towm whose Boche call "the Blue Devils of France" because the Canadians of the French army.
A week before I came to this sector the Chasseurs had placed around the graves of their fellow soldiers a small wood fence, and at each grave erected a large wooden cross bearing the tricolor and a wreath of flowers. The graves were kept, and at the head of each was the fallen hero's helmet.
Two days later I passed this spot and, to my surprise, found that the little wooden fences had been demol-
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The major invited me to go with him to inspect a company that was in the reserve. When we arrived at the company headquarters we found it engaged in gas drill, the captain conducting the drill without going through it himself. The major noticed this and said to his orderly, "Let me take your gas mask." The major had forgotten his. Orders forbid a soldier to ever give his gas mask to another, and the orderly hesitated to hand the mask over. The major noticed the
FRIDAY-APRIL 12
OWL HOP
Here was a typical example of the Boche at his work—destroying graves that are of no military value—destroying them because it is his idea of making war.
I gazed at the mass of wreckage in horror. Finally the guide said, "Yesterday the Boche fired about a dozen shells into this place because we had placed the little fences around the graves."
(Continued on page 4)
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