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Page 89 text:
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H 54 'U' ,fd I I ' ' IJF :JI-'mis Or AN LJNKNCJWN sOLDl.f:A By Copeland Hague Hello reader! Fine day, isn't it? What? Oh yes, of course, you ask my nwne--silly that I didnit think of that. My nmno is-eahL'well, you see, I guess I really havenEtZany name in particular--it.might'be John, Jack, Bill, or mob or-mbut it really doesn't matter anyway. I can tell you, though, I did fight in the Civil War--What? Oh yes, of course I'm dead---been dead for seventy-odd years. I am now only a spirit--but wait! donft walk away, let me tell you my story. I might as well start at the beginning- I was born in a small town in America. Perhaps in Heine, Massachusetts, VirQinia,Tennessee, or, well almost any state that Civil Nur soldiers came from. I was, perhaps a strong, sturdy farmer of the south, or maybe a factory worker of the north. I had planned my life, had a little schooling, and, if my parents had the money, I may have planned to go to a University. Well, then, as fate would have it, the great Civil War broke out between the North and South, and, like most of my brothers, I joined an army to fight for what we thought was right. I was placed under the leadership of a grand general--maybe Lee, Jackson, Grant, or--of, you must have heard of him--read about him in your history books. After a few weeks in camp, our half trained detachment received orders to march on the enemy. For days we marched---sometimes I was hungry, sometimes cold, but we were fighting for what we thought was right, so it didn't matter. One morning, early, before sun-up, we were aroused by our officers, and told that today we were to attack. I marched all morning---of course I mean my whole detachment, or division. By mid-morning, we sighted the foe! We were on top of one hill, our foe, on a smaller hill across a small ravine. To my right lay a small town, its single church steeple piercing the sky through the green foliage of a few still intact trees. Yes! there had been fighting here before. Branches and leaves lay strewn about the stark trunks, as if some giant, inhuman creature had torn them limb from limb, and dropped them where they fell. -Neither army had, however, touched the peaceful church or its surroundings. This made me feel sort of queer inside. Could there still be a sacred, mutual feeling between us? There was a stone wall running diagonally across the crest of the smaller hill, and to our left, a small wooded grove. It was July, and the skies were bright and---but wait--the signal to charge! Already our batteries have opened up. I am running downhill--running faster, faster--then I pause, shoot, and reload--then run some more. There is a terrible din--my brothers screaming and falling on all sides of me. Still running through the smoke I can make out the foe running at us closer, closer. I hear a man shout---WWe're fighting for the rightI' then he falls. The thought still goes through my mind---nfighting for the right---fighting for the right.' I shoot, then run some more. I am suddenly spun around, as if some giant force is taking hold of me-- and I am no more. Well, now you've heard my story. It really isn't much, its just- what? you want to know whose side I was on. Well, that too, does not matter, I may have been on either side--fighting for what I thought was right---you see, I'm the spirit of the 'Unknown Soldier of the Civil War. 8 7
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Page 90 text:
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. Fw f 'THE' lflffflillllil ,A STDLDIEK ' By William Hidden I - A low slung, drab-colored, armored car sped along on the country road that wound through a dense forest. The trees were torn and shattered from shellfirc, and there were craters in the road where shells had found their mark. In the distance there was a heavy, ground-shaking booming of artillery, and nearer, the lighter banging and rattling of rifles and machine guns. There was the sharp, acrid odor of gunpowder in the air, and every once in a while a plane roared and his low overhead. H In the heavily-armed scout car were eight soldiersg six in the back manning the three machine guns, whose wicked looking muzzles stuck over the steel sides, and two in front, the driver and a man be- side him carrying a light submachine gun. All the men were alert and 'healthy looking, but the driver, a Sergeant, 'stood out from the rest. 'Lean and tanned from months of training, he looked grim and business. 'like in his khaki uniform, with a holstered automatic on his belt. He peered intently through the little slit in front of him, hhnds gripped the wheel tightly. Every once in a while, he had to swerve to avoid a shellhole, and every time he came to a dense bush or thicket that might conceal an anti-tank or machine gun, he slowed down ' There.was a feeling of tenseness in the car since this was to be the first actual fighting of the men. affected by this anxiety and he felt was uncertain and confused, and the head that he would forget everything the enemy. The, Sergeant, especially, was his responsibility heavily. He thought kept running through his he had learned when confronted by ' In fact, he notice the little from a thick bush a loud nWham!n in was so absorbed black muzzle of beside the road the back of the in an his own thoughts, that he didn't antitank gun protruding a little The first he knew of ,the gun was truck and something jagged whizzed past his ear and imbedded itself in the steel windshield in front of him. There was silence for a moment, and then a dazed and horrified voice called. nHey, Sarge, that shell. It got Tom. He's dead.n The word ndeadn brought the Sergeant back to his senses, and he was surprised to find that he knew exactly what he was going to do. Stopping the car out of sight of the antitank gunners, he grabbed the submachine gun out of the hands of the surprised soldier beside him, and said grimly, Ulf I'm not back in five minutes, you take over .n And.he ju pod out the door. ,a n-V4 - ,, - V n I n Iait u minute, Sarge, yelled the man, Let me go too. You can't take them over all alone.W In a determined voice the Sergeant replied, UNO, you stay here. This is my job.n And he started off through the underbrush. Three minutes later, the quick clatter of the submachine gun was heard by the soldiers in the car, and in a moment the Sergeant came striding up the road, jumped into the car, and drove off again, with a new air of confidence about him. The soldiers didn't bother to ask any questionsg they knew what had happened. As for the Sergeant, he only wished the enemy would show up againg he knew he could take care of them now. ' 8 8
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