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Page 17 text:
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FOUR CORNERS 7 batlle raged fiercely all that night and the next day. Many a heart at home was racked by anxiety during those dreadful hours. Not long after the first charge, the faithful Red Cross workers started out on their errand of mercy. One of the first men to be picked up was Harry! Both legs had been shot off and there was a great bullet hole through his breast, but he was still alive. They carried him to the field hospital as soon as they could, but he died a short time after, trying to say something to the nurse. When his pockets were searched in the hope of finding articles to identify him, the following letter was brought to light: Dear Alarm! —I’m well and in hopes you are the same. We’re going over the top pretty soon and I’m doin’ this to pass away the time. I’m not scared but we fellers feel kind of shaky. It’s the first time over and chances look good for its bein’ the last. I can’t pertend, Ma, any soft stuff, but My God, Marm, I wish you could sort o’ hug me to-night an’ tell me them things you uster. You remember, Marm, the time you licked me fer killin’ the robin. I wish you’d licked me harder and maybe I’d have amounted to somethin’ now. Harry. AbbieB. Small , ’20. THE GREAT BIRTHDAY GIFT. George Milton sat alone in his lonely parlor, in one of the most fashionable houses of Chicago. He had been reading the evening paper, but it had fallen to the floor, and as he stared blankly into the fireplace, two great tears left his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Why was he not happy? He had a beautiful home, plenty of money, and unlimited friends. He needed someone to make his house a home, someone to share his troubles, and to make those long winter evenings shorter. Then he thought of his beautiful wife, so far away, where she lay in the depth of the sea. How happy they had
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Page 16 text:
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6 FOUR CORNERS The long, arduous days in the training camp passed without much variety, and one day early in June, Harry found him¬ self sailing out of New York Harbor on an immense transport. He was seasick at first, but the end of the voyage was delight¬ ful, for always from a little boy, he had a great love for the sea. His trip was without excitement for no submarines crossed their path, and after an unusually short time on the ocean, they arrived at a small French village. From there Harry was taken to another training camp in the heart of France, but somewhat back from the trenches. The work was even more difficult there and the men were anxious to “get into things,” as they expressed it. Finally their desired advance came and they were placed in a position in the trenches, beside the French and English. Up to this time, letters, boxes, and goodies came regularly from the folks at home to nearly everyone except Harry. Of course they shared with him, but after a while, a spark of long-dead pride awakened and he would find some reason for refusing. Oh, how he longed for a letter from home! But he realized that his mother and sister did not even know of his release from prison, and indeed there were few at that lime, outside of officials, that did know it. Nevertheless he could not bring himself to write. There was comparative quiet in the trenches for some time after Harry arrived, and then one night their orders were to go “over the top.” There was almost deathlike silence for a second, then the big guns boomed out, preparing the way for the infantry. The soldiers, picked for the charge, showed in the few remaining minutes the real spirit lurking beneath the usually indifferent exterior. Some smoked feverishly, others sang, a few prayed, more than one was intensely interested in a picture. Harry remained a little apart, busy with paper and pencil. No one dreamed of asking him what he was doing. He had never invited familiarity and the others never offered any advances. The time for the charge had been set for a certain moment, and, at the exact time, the soldiers, supported by the tanks, started “over the top” and across No Man’s Land. The
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Page 18 text:
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8 FOUR CORNERS been that evening, with their little boy, on the great steamer bound for America. A sudden roar and a list of the vessel had ended it all. In the panic which followed, they had been separated never to see each other again. Saved himself, when a sailor had thrust him into a life-boat, he had half madly scanned the castaways as they were brought lo land, until reason had given way, and for months he had been as one dazed. .Then he hopelessly took up existence again in his empty home; though for the thousandth time memory awakened his heart. His little boy, he would always have that queer character in the form of the letter A, on the bottom of his little left foot. They had always laughingly said that he had a good start on his a, b, c’s, ard tomorrow he would have been eleven years old. Mr. Milton got up and started for bed. but before going to his own chamber he entered a beautiful little room, furnished with every possible thing a little boy coifd want. He crossed the room, his eyes blinded with tears, laid his head on one of the little pillows and offered a prayer, then suddenly he fell a cold little hand on his forehead. “Please don’t be angry, sir,” said a soft voice, “I came through the back part of the house and got into this room. I thought it must belong to some little boy so I waited, but he didn’t come and I got into the bed to keep warm. I think this is a lovely room. Is it your little boy’s?” This was a hard question to answer, so to avoid it the poor father, looking at the frail little figure, asked, “When did you eat last?” The little fellow looked frightened for a moment, then answered, “It was last night when father gave me five cents.” “Then, young man, you come down stairs this minute,” was the quick reply. After a servant was called and a good supper eaten, Mr. Milton took the little fellow in his lap and demanded, “Now, how came you in that bed?” The little fellow looked squarely at him for a moment, then said, “I think you won’t scold me, so I am going to tell you. My father and mother both died six years ago, and since then
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