Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

Page 17 text:

..-,'f:-.:7-'- -ggnifi A L-sg. -J 15- f,f Y df.: . 2542 -13.1-'-f,3T ,le s-.L-PES. around. Through a small window he could see that it had stopped snow- ing. He gazed out at a patch of clear, cold sky. Gradually it dawned upon him that he was in a strange room. Had he been found by the Red Cross, or, perhaps, was he taken prisoner by the Boches? Slowly turning his head toward the center af the cabin, he saw, lying at the foot of his cot, a man in German uniform. Scotty's heart sank. ' The man stirred, and lifting himself on his elbow, looked up. Cold 9 he asked, noticing the shiver that passed over Scotty. Nope, Iim O. K.-say, is this a prison camp, or what P For some reason or other, Scotty liked the looks of this big, broad-shouldered, clean-cut fellow. The Boche was getting up now, taking off his coat with the evident intention of giving it to his charge. ' Aw, keep your coat. Sure enough, I'm not v-very c-cold. The German said nothing, but after throwing his heavy, warm coat over Scotty, drew up a box and sat down beside him, leaning his elbows on his knees. In a minute he began to speak in good, unbroken English: Never mind just where you are. Here-take a drink of this, you look weak. Scotty did as he was bid, while the German reachedover to his knapsack and took out a piece of dark bread and a small can of meat, which he opened and dumped out on a little tin plate. This is not quite so good as they usually give you Englishmen, is it? he asked with a smile, proffering the food to Scotty. Say, Fritz, don't call me an Englishman! returned Scotty with heatg 'Tm an American-born in the State of Missouri, U. S. A. Well, for God's sake-say- are you telling me right? he added suspiciously. ' Scotty looked up. The German seemed to be all aquiver with excitement. You don't think I look in any condition to be 'kidding' you, do you, Fritz? The German smiled. By the way, where did you learn to speak English as you do? Do they teach that over in your country along with destruction of hospitals, the murder of women and the making of those infernal Krupp guns ? The German winced, then laying his huge hand upon Scotty's shoulder, he exclaimed, Why, man, I was born in the very state you come from. My brother, my sisters-all of them-are living to-day in St. Louis. You see, my folks were German, but I was born in Americag was over here visiting when the war came, was rushed to the front. It certainly is good to see someone from America. That's one country I d never fight against. ' ' Scottyis surprise showed upon his face. He leaned over and thrust out his hand. Put 'er there, friend, I want to shake the hand of a real man. Scotty leaned too far. His knee twitched, and the intense pain of it caused him to emit a low groan. His breath was comingfaster. He felt himself growing weaker. 15

Page 16 text:

You sleep like a Boche when we get through with 'eml Yuh 'wake?- Well, listen: get yourself together and make it snappy! We have orders to go 'over the top' at ten-fifteen. Scotty crawled from his position of shelter, and shaking the snow from his coat, made himself ready. His little nap had refreshed him and after taking a nip of strong rum he was ready. There was always some- thing revolting to him in all of this terrible business. Over the top -stumbling, running, panting across No Man's Land -tearing through entanglements of barbed wire, and then, if not stopped by a piece of lead, to plunge a whetted bayonet into a fellow-human being. Gruesome, terrible, inhuman business-always his whole instinct revolted. A He had now been with his Canadian fellows for almost three years, yet nothing could harden him to this matter-of-fact way human lives were sacrificed. Again he repeated to himself: I am fighting for principle. It is right. justice will- Fix bayonets ! Scotty's reflections were cut short by the whispered command passed down the trench, to be followed by: Over the top ! Rifle in hand, he scrambled up. A thin line of his fellows was on either side. Stealthily but swiftly they pushed into No Man's Land, then-puff !-a German star-shell Flared overhead-the attack was uncov- ered. A shot and a hoarse shout came from the Boche lookout. A red rocket hissed high above the trenches-a signal to the artillery, and then hell was loosed. The thin line of crouching Canadians was transformed into an onslaught of battle-crazed demons. No more of stealth or hiding, for now the Teuton heavy guns had been warned and their terrible death messengers were on the way. Then came a screech-a demoniac scream-a terrible explosion, and Scotty, half-covered with dirt of No Man's Land, lay stunned. As senses came back he knew he was unhurt. Groping for his riile, he staggered to his feet. It had only been a second, for there were his comrades crawling through the tangle of wire. He stumbled toward them. Full strength came back with the desire to kill-kill-to feel the ecstasy of killing. They were through the barbed wire now-on the lip of the trench. There was the enemy. See, he is. looking up, waiting for me to loose his blood and life with a bayonet. Scotty raised his weapon and then darkness came, and unconsciousness. Scotty Finally, after a determined effort, opened his eyes. He tried to roll over on one side, but a terrific twinge of pain came from his knee. He lay still and tried to remember what had happened. He had a dim recollection of the charge, the blinding flashes of bursting shellsg then he closed his eyes from sheer faintness. Soon he became aware of the fact that he was hungry, intensely hungry. He tried' to sit up, but again came the awful tinge from his knee. He slid his hand down, only to find that it was bandaged firmly. Scotty blinked his eyes and looked 14

Page 18 text:

The man caught his hand warmly and noticing that Scotty's pulse was growing jerky and feverish, took a field kit from his pack, selected a hypodermic needle and began cleaning it. So you're one of those adventurous Americans, not satisfied with your own country, over here fighting for a foreign government. Fritz smiled good-naturedly as he said this, and going over to the cot, injected the opiate into Scotty's arm. H-m-m! Why, you must not be much over twenty-one or two, are you ? Scotty shook his head. He did not care to talk much. In a few moments the soothing effect of the narcotic deadened his pain-then he told the whole story. He was like a child now, a very small child. It did his heart good to tell all that was pent up. It was the first time he had ever confided his story to anyone, and when he had finished there were tears in the eyes of the other. All through the following night Scotty dreamed-half delirious, and several times the German was awak- ened by Scotty's: Oh, Clara! Tell me it's a lie, Clara-a lie, a lie, a lie ! Once toward morning, the German injected more morphineg then he slept heavily until daybreak. The gray light of the dawn crept in through the window of a cabin in a devastated part of Flanders and touched the eyelids of one Scotty Blake, of the Third Canadian Reserves. Scotty awoke to find a strong aroma of coffee filling the room. This refreshed him somewhat, but he was very weak, and the blood-soaked bandages were oppressive. He saw his newly-made friend leaning over a small fire boiling coffee in a pan. The German turned, and smiled when he saw his prisoner was awake. This will brace you up, he promised, shifting his position by the i-ire so that he might see Scotty. Do you know there is something about a day like this that reminds me of Missouri? I don't know whether it is the snap in the air or just the cold, gray look everything has. Say, returned Scotty, that was just exactly what I was thinking as I looked out there. Coincidence, isn't it? How I remember those winter days! Wait a minute-1et's see-twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty- fourth-by George,-Merry Christmas! To-day's Christmas-this is Christmas morning! The German stepped over to the cot and grasped Scotty's hand. Scotty thought for a moment. Yep, you're right-it's Christmas morning, his forced smile quickly vanishing. I wonder what they're doing back home right now! I suspect they're all sitting about the Christmas tree giving out the presents. There was a catch in his voice as he said this and he turned his face down to the cot. The German turned to the window and stared out across the plain. He said nothing. He, too, was thinking of Missouri, and a snow-covered 16