Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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Many of our men sat smoking in meditative silence, thinking of the poor fellows lying out there in the field so white and still. They were no longer the enemy, simply the beings of God ' s creation. Those bodies once moved with the life and vitality He had given them. Mortal hands had destroyed the body, but the soul, impervious to human destruction, took its place in eternity. As they sat there with these thoughts in mind there crept into their consciousness this proposition, Man has destroyed that which God has made, and the deep silence with which it was accepted made one feel he was witnessing an atonement between man and the Almighty. Others of our regiment, younger and lighter-hearted, hummed low tunes or sat conversing in groups. While I watched them my own mind became filled with sacred contemplation that comes only to the soldier who has come safely out of battle. Suddenly from the German trenches came the clear ringing notes of a cornet. How the fellow could play! He fairly picked up our feel- ings and carried them along with him. When he stopped for a moment every man of us rose up and cheered him. An American in our regiment started singing Silver Threads Among the Gold, and the Boche played an accom- paniment on his cornet. It was great. At the conclusion not one of us could speak, but a young soldier next to me (a mere boy) started crying very softly and soon all down the line of strong men — war-hardened veterans — were chok- ing back tears they were ashamed for their comrades to see. Probably to please his Yankee partner the Teuton musician played Dixie and ' Way Down Upon the Swanee River. After that he ran over a few popular French airs and quit. We supposed he would play no more, and at the shift of guards wrapped up in our blankets. I was about half asleep when again there fell on my ears the silvery tones of his instrument. He was playing a waltz, and at the first strain I leaped up in trembling excitement. Only two men in the whole world new that waltz existed — myself and the dearest friend of my youth, Karl Schmallhausen, a Bavarian musician. On my twenty-third birthday he had composed and played it for me: a waltz so beautiful that we decided to share it with no others, but keep it as a bond of mutual affection. For three years I had not heard it played, and now its slow melody came drifting to me over the battle field, bringing a message from Karl. I knew he was fighting with the enemy, for once within the borders of his native land his body and soul must become the tool of his Imperial Master. Often I had won- dered if he had gone through it all unscathed, as I had. A Zouave from the rest billets back of the base line came down the trench with an alto under his arm. I stopped h im and asked if I might play it. Nervously I played through the first strain of the waltz and immediately Karl played the second. Thus, The world ' s peace must be planted upon the tested foundations of political liberty. — The President. [Page Twenty-four

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FRANK WELLER S HE SUN has slipped below the horizon. The faint blue line away to the west, suggesting the contact of earth and sky, was slightly edged with crimson. Two or three truant stars were already twinkling in the dark blue canopy above. At another time the serenity of it all might have stirred the soul of a poet to an expression of immortal feeling. But to us, a regiment of French in- fantrymen, it brought only a deep thankfulness that another day of slaughter was at an end. Rifles and machine guns that had cracked incessantly since the first dim hint of dawn were now silent and the general con- fusion of battle, so horrible in its intensity, had given place to a strange calm as the shadows of approaching night fell gently upon the earth. The last pale streaks of twilight faded out of the western sky and the moon, like an impetuous enchantress, seeing the last fluttering edge of her rival ' s golden robe broke from behind a cloud and enveloped the universe in the radiance of her beauty. As the stars grew thicker and brighter, a gentle breeze came whispering across the fields, bringing in its train through moonlight and starlight the holy hour of evening. Men who but a few hours ago were trying to kill other men now banished from their minds all thoughts of strife. The field out in front of our trench was strewed with silent grey-coated figures. They were shock troops who had been hurled against our first line fortifications. They made a gallant sight, those young fellows, grimly advancing while our machine gunners cut great swaths in their ranks. We had lost many a brave French lad in breaking that charge, and now it seemed that a mutual feeling of human sympathy pervaded the atmosphere and established an unspoken truce between us and the Germans. The world must be made safe for democracy. — The President. Page Twenty- three]

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until taps, we played to each other. I wanted to go over to him, but to venture into that open field, even at night, was certain death. All night I lay in my blankets thinking of him, and I knew that somewhere out there in the darkness he was thinking of me. At last we had found each other again, but I fervently hoped we should not meet in tomorrow ' s fray. The thought of killing him as I had others of the enemy sickened my soul and I tried to banish the thought from my mind. With the coming of dawn I arose and to soothe my perturbed spirit climbed to the top of the trench and looked out in the direction of the German position. Almost instantly a dark figure became visible on that black line I knew to be the enemy ' s fire trench. I raised rrvysclf higher and he saw me. Quickly he crossed his arms on his chest and then dropped them. Karl! I cried. It was the old danger signal he and I used at the conservatory to warn each other of an approaching professor when either of us were into deviltry. When he caught my answer he leaped back in his trench. I did not understand why he had given the signal, but I straightway reported to the commander and he had the entire regiment prepare for immediate action. Again I went to the observation post and looked out. A great grey-green line was sweeping across the field toward us. In that moment I knew the meaning of the signal. The German officers had planned a surprise attack and Karl had given us warning. Our machine guns sent a screen of bullets across the field, and for a moment their line wavered, but a second arose from the trench and joined the first. On they came, and as we set to meet the shock our Yankee comrade leaped up and rushed squarely at the foe. Without word from the officers our whole regiment rose up and followed him. The audacity of it startled us, but the call to follow was irresistible. A big German was running in advance of his column and the American turned toward him. They met with a lunge and I saw a bayonet sink in the grey coat. The weight of our impact broke their Prussian forma- tion, and with that gone the Teuton warriors were lost. Back they went, and a part of our force deploying came up in the rear and made them prisoners. As we marched back I saw the American sitting silently beside the big fel- low he had slain. His face was drawn in a half sad, half wistful expression; when he turned at my approach, he shuddered and looked down where in his hand he held — a German cornet. Thus it is in war. I pinned my Croix de Guerre on Karl ' s grey jacket and the American fastened a little silk flag of his own country under it. We did not bury him with the others, but wrapped him in the Tricolor and laid him to rest beneath a great spreading tree. We gave him the best we could for, although German born, he was a Frenchman at heart. As a single cog in the We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion. — The President. Page Twenty-five]