BOXERS IN WAR

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 184, 24 April 1918, Page 6

BOXERS IN WAR

FRANK SLAVIN'S WAY

HOW HE GOT HIS HUN

Do boxers make good in war? Listen to this story of I'rank Slavin. I had it irom a wounded Canadian soldier just back from the trenches'—a boy who enlisted in tjlavin's regiment, "the lGth Canadian Scottish, who was with Slavin through the njjhting, was with him in a hospital, and finally was sent home on the same hospital ship that carried the old lion of the prize ring (says tho New york "World"). When Slavin went to (he war ho was 5G years of age', but ho admitted only 41 years to the recruiting sergeant. He was a wonderful specimen of a man. Well over lift, tall Slavin is, and as straight as an Indian. "A magnificent veteran was Slavin when he went to (ho war. But for his while hnij- and his white moustache he looked like a husky Yukon miner rather than a man who had gone through a very long ring career and had been out of it and working as an engineer in the Arctic wilderness tor nearly 20 years. He had a deep voice and a square-cut fighting jaw that was always thrust forward u bit, and hands that swung nearly to his kuees.

"So one black night seven months later found Frank Hlxvin out in a front-line trench, with the Germans pressing hard in their drive for tho sea, and no one knowing what might happen uext, feeling well satisfied with life and quite us much at home as ever he did under the Aurora Boroalus.

■"They wero working hard that night, strengthening the narrow, half-finished trench they had been sent forward to occupy. Slavin was at it with tho rest, lifting bags of sand to build up the parapet. He'd loan over, grasp a heavy bag, and toss it up into place. Bag after bag, never wearying, ho did his share of the work.

"Tiien, just as Slavin lifted a bag and straightened to full height in the darkness, someone struck a match h> light a fag. Slavin's head was above tho ground level or perhaps orposito a. loophole. For an instant his lean face and his white moustache stood out strongly in the glow. There was the infinitely short, abrupt whizzing sound of ii rifle bullet, and a soiuid like that of a butcher's cleaver striking bone. "Slavin's bag of Band slipped from his hand and fell across his feet. He stood upright, motionless in the darkness. For a loiig minute he stood there. And then one of the men stepped to his side. .

" 'What's the matter, Frank?' he asked. 'Not hit, are you?' "Slavin raised his right hand slowly. Ho wore heavy gauntlets, and, rubbing the back of it across his forehead, peered steadily at it in tho dim starlight. He didn't answer, but stood there, swaying a little on his wide-spread feet. ILen jio took off his cap, brought the edge of it across his eyebrows and jammed it on tightly.

"The whizzing bullet had struck him just in front of the left temple, end had ploughed across his forehead, following *,ko curve of the frontal bone, but Lot crushing through. It was a terrific, stunning Mow.

"Silently Slavin turned and began to climb out of the trench and over the parapet. Another man. caught him by the shoulder, only to be shaken oil'. '"What's got into you?' he demanded. 'Are you gono crazy?'

"Slavin drew himself over the parapet and turned his head. " 'Either I'm not coming back,' he growled, 'or I'll bring a pal with me.' "lie crawled away into the darkness, out through the wire.

"Half an hour later there was a scuffling sound on tho edge of tho bench, and the men, leaping up, saw dim .figures looming against the blufrMacksky. Blows and a kick and a man in German uniform fell headlong into the trench, and Slavin leaped down after him. Without a word he picked the German up by the neck, stood him against the trench wall, and knocked him down with a heavy blow on the jaw. Then, as if there was nothing more to be done, he walked away to go back to the dressing station."