TEN THOUSAND SHALL FALL

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 967, 9 May 1930, Page 5

TEN THOUSAND SHALL FALL

By

DAVID W. KING

(Copyright 1029, by Duffield and Co. Distributed by the King Features Syndicate Inc.) '

SYNOPSIS Leaving Harvard, David King, under military age, enlists in the Foreign Legion in France. In a few days, he is in the front-line trenches, wearing the scarlet trousers that made excellent targets for the enemy. All* nationalities are represented in the Legion. King’s buddies are “Phil,” an ex-elephant hunter, and Alan Seeger, the American poet, later killed in action. After this, baptism of fire, the Legion is back in rest billets, where King witnesses the execution of three French families caught syping. King refuses to partake of roasted cat offered by an Arab, as he had seen it feeding on a corpse. “Phil’* is iujufYed in a general tight between Americans and foreigners in the Legion. After a leave, King rejoins the Legion which is reviewed by' General Leyantey. CHAPTER IX.— (Continued.) As one man, they hurled themselves forward. Piercing shrieks from the women as the bayonets plunged into the door —then we fell upon them before they could wrench free. Toward morning we were called out for the twenty-third time; but how to cram any more into the bursting jail was a problem. The sergeant of the guard, however, rose to the occasion. Placing the prisoners outsi le the door, he rapped out directions. We surrounded them with fixed bayonets. Throwing open the jail door, ho ordered us to advance. As the points pricked them, the prisoners cursing and howling with fear fought their own way into the teeming clink. Alan had a new crony, a gigantic Sorb called Hupmaja. He was a veteran of the last Balkan war and was probably a brigand before that. But he had abandoned brigandage for the law, and was studying in Paris when

the war broke out. When he wasn’t cleaning and crooning to his rifle, he was arguing with Alan. In the heat of one of these discussions Alan called him an imbecile. Now he might have insulted his ancestors for ten generations, and Hupmaja would have grinned; but to insult his limited intelligence was striking too near home. With a roar the fight began; Alan sticking to the Marquess of Queensbury, and Hup using kill as catch can rules. “Stick to out-fighting, Alan!” “Don’t let that Gorilla close with you!” “Use your knee if he does'” But in spite of all friendly advice they came to grips, and crashed to the ground—Alan underneath. The struggle went on but the Serb had it all his own way, and his thumbs crept toward the corners of Alan’s eyes. A fight’s a fight, but gouging is mutilation —so we kicked his thick head, and stopped it. There were other troubles, besides drinking. The first grenades had appeared—cranky things made by munition workers. They were guaranteed to go off in seven seconds, hut occasionally exploding in three,

and there were several tragedies during practice. But it was left to a Corsican sergeant to use them for his own private grudge. Hate is never far from love. Torrelli had been thrown down by his girl, and his hot blood demanded revenge. Ho pranced up to her house with a neat paper package under his arm, and tried to inveigle her to come out. The gist of it all was to let bygones be bygones, but he wanted to make her a parting present. His expression, or perhaps her intuition, warned her something was wrong. Instead of coming forward to take the package, she questioned him throug:h the halfclosed door. The more he urged, the more distantly curious she became. The argument ended abruptly—as the present exploded. Marie was considerably shaken. Torrelli disappeared in a fine red mist. Alsace was a great disappointment. The "Quand Meme” and “Little Bird from France” stuff was useful as propaganda, but we hadn't been there a day before we discovered It was eye-wash—or, shall we say, banana il! It seemed to me that most of -he French Alsacians must have cleared out after 1870. The present population is neither anti-German nor pro-French; they simply want to be an independent state, like Switzerland or Luxenbourg. They were antiBoche for good reasons, but principally, because they are always “agin the government.” After I had been there a week. I was convinced they would prove as much of a stumbling block in the Chambre as they had in the Reichstag. The cafes were amusing. French was evidently the patriotic tongue of the moment. It was comic to watch the worthy Burghers come in, raise their hats and solemnly greet the gathering: “Ponchour dout le monde-Zalut, la gompagnie!” Their French went no

further, hut honour was satisfied—and with a sigh of relief they would lapse into guttural German. CHAPTER X. BATTLE OF CHAMPAGNE The 2nd Elrangers disentrained at St. Hilaire the night of September 15. The road was blocked with regiments. I had never seen so many men. At dawn we moved on, and even as we moved, troops, by this time banked up behind us, took our place. Regiments, brigades, divisions, —Line. Chasseurs Alpins, Zouaves, Tirailleurs, Colonel Infantry, what next! Guns, field guns, Howitzers, siege batteries, endless ammunition trains —then cavalry. Our hopes ran high—it was the big offensive —open warfare —Berlin! Still the blue columns rolled on—picked men, shock troops—the lance head of the army. There must be a big show coming and, as if in confirmation, the German guns began a sullen systematic shelling. We camped in the park of the Chateau at Suippes and lost touch with the shifting horde in the intensity of our own preparations. Every day officers went up into line to learn the trenches and returning explained with plans scratched on the ground. A. was our first line, B„ C. and D. evacuation trenches, and God help the man who was caught in one of these without a wound. Specialists were trained. Grenadiers with the new contact grenades, whoso business it was to put the machine guns out; Netto ; yeurs des Tranchees with wicked looking trench daggers, to mop up after the first wave had swept over—there was to be no repetition of Arras. And still more troops and guns rolled up.

Our preparatory bombardment began. God what a prelude! It crashed out on a split second, and for three days thundered relentlessly on. In the face of this, how childish our new gas masks and steel helmets .... “Hey, feller, tomorrow’s the big day!” “Yeh —Therisien just told me.” “Did he tell you we’re not going to lead off, after all?” “Yep—We’ve got the dirtiest job of all. The Colonial Infantry’s going over first. We pass ’em. and take over just where the hardest fighting begins, and when we’re shot to pieces the Zouaves carry on through the gap.” "Sounds pleasant!” Then Denny’s; voice dropped, as he sheepishly j handed me a hit of paper. “That’s j my sister's address, Dave, just in case j . . . . Will you write?” “Sure. Here’s my brother's.” Evening came—everything was ! ready. Huddled around the dying: fires we bleus were trying to hide our stage-fright, and the anciens were singing the traditional songs of the Legion—and over everything the increasing roar of the guns. “Rassemblement! Couvrez sur deux!” “We’re for it now, Denny.” “Yes, feller, but what an experience!” At 12 sharp we started for the line in column of twos. As we got clear of the woods we could hear troops marching on all sides. Occasionally we got fleeting glimpses of them as the moon came out of the clouds. The shells were beginning to burst around us now, but we were comparatively safe in the shelter of a boyeau. (Communication trench.) Suddenly we came out into the street of a little village. This was Souain, and at that moment no healthy spot. Two of our batteries were in the ruins and the whole place

was lit up by the flash of the guns. The German guns were searching for them, and the noise of crashing shells and tumbling masonry was infernal. As we passed the door of a huge barn I saw r an Artillery man, ' hands in pockets, legs wide apart, grinning from ear to ear. He made some remark about it being a bit showery. Another flash—Abracadabra! His goblin figure disappeared. We plunged into another boyeau and finally reached the second line, Avhere in spite of a fine rain and the bombardment Ave slept like logs. At dawn we were up watching the effect of our shells. They Avere bursting like ocean breakers on the first and second German line, following each other so fast that they howled like a wind overhead. On account of poor visibility, zero hour was postponed till nine. At nine sharp the order was passed “Sacs aux dos,” and Ave started to the first line, our section in front with Rose leading. W T e came to a place Avhere the boyeau was cut by a road. Beside us a masked battery had opened up and was working full blast. The Germans were hunting for it and had just got the range. They Avere dropping big shells at the point of crossing, and were sweeping it with machine guns. Commandant Rose climbed out onto the road, looked coolly about him, and walked across with bis cane on his arm. I held my breath and plunged after him. Those of us Avho got across were surprised to find ourselves still alive. At a fork in the boyeau Ave learned that the Colonial Infantry had led off; already some of the Avounded were streaming back. I was so interested in a Colonial with the tops of four fingers shot off that I lost contact with the rest of the section, and found my self \A r ith the men behind me, including

Lieutenant Pelozza, cut off from the rest. We blundered into the first line trench as a section of Colonials was about to go over. Out in front of the trench a commandant majeur (doctor with the grade of major) was walking up and down. There he was. bullets and shrapnel whistling all about him, swinging his stick as he calmly directed the stretcher bearers Seeing us he hailed Lieutenant Pelozza. “Hey, que faites vous la!” (“What are you doing there?”) Pelozza ex plained that we had lost our regiment etc. He was bothered for a moment, and then his face cleared. “Vous allez tous dans la meme direction. Vous n’aA’ez pu’a foutre le camp avec les autres.” (You are all going in the same direction, you'd better jump off with the rest. > Once out of the communication trench Ave lost all awe of the bullets AA'hich were spatting about us and started across the leA'el ground. A roar of rage from Captain Petaud, on the left, called us back: “What the Hell are you doing out there!” And rejoining the regiment, we meekly waited our turn. Prisoners began to filter in. Poor devils, half crazed from the effects of the bombardment, they offered us everything they had, from watches to water bottles. Four of them were bearing a Colonial captain on a stretcher. He saw the green 2’s on our collars, and raising himself cried, “Vive la Legion!”—Then he fell back exhausted, the blood welling from * jagged hole in his chest. We fixed bayonets. Commandant Rose jumped out ahead —“En Avant” Ave were off. We crossed their :ront line at a quick walk, and for the first time got some idea of the effect of our bombardment. Nothing was left but a series of mounds and holes with i half-buried men, machine guns, and

barbed wire entanglements—here and there a dead Colonial hanging on them. We began to lose men by rifle and machine gun fire, as well as shrapnel. A halt to get the men in hand again, and I had a chance to look around. Behind me in every direction came heavy columns of blue-clad Infantry. Regiment after regiment surged over the hill —an overwhelming flood of blue. “Hey! Look at the Cavalry!’’ Sure enough, we could see columns of horsemen. As they came broadside to us we noticed the strange formation in which they were riding—six men by twos then a gap—then six more. Suddenly we realised they "were not cavalry but batteries following up the Infantry. Five minutes later they came galloping into the flat sort of valley where we were waiting. The Boches caught sight of both the guns and us at the same moment. The result was a veritable hail of 4.2 inch shrapnel an* the famous German 105 shell. CHAPTER XI. A'\ e lay flat with our sacks hunched on our shoulders and watched the guns come into action. A contact shell hit the lead team of one gun and "messed ’em up considerable.” In a flash the wheel driver was at the horses’ heads calming them, the gunners had cut loose the quivering mass of horses and men, and what was left of the team was on its way again, the driver swinging into his saddle at the trot. A minute later the battery was in action front and had fired its first salvo. A shell burst just above us and the man on my left gave a little moan. The Corporal on my right burled his face In his hands squeaking like a snared rabbit, and my rifle burned my hands. There was no doubt about the other man —he was through; the Corporal was weeping in such a high falsetto we thought he was fooling, but when we pulled his hands down from his face we found It split open like a ripe melon, lu the meantime, I had troubles of my own; the same shrapnel had smashed my rifle so I had to look around for another. It was not difficult to find one as men were dropping all around and there was one continuous yell for brancardiers (stretcher bearers). According to orders they only brought in men of their own regiment; it looked cruel !o see them pass a man with his whole side torn out to pick up another slightly wounded, but It saved lives in the long run. Things were becoming a little too warm in that part of the world so we were ordered to occupy a German position, the “Angelheart-shooting trench.” Here, however, in spite of the pleasing name things were even worse. They had the range down to an inch, and were only waiting to make sure it was occupied before plastering it with heavy contact shells. A sickening crash, the stench of hot acrid gas—the pelting of rocks, sand and clods of earth, and finally the shrieks of the wounded. Two hours of this, and at last the order to advance once more. This meant climbing out, assembling, and calling the roll, under the same murderous fire. The first, second and third sections fell in and numbered off; only five men and a sergeant of the fourth appeared. Captain Pet.aud waited patiently for a bit but finally shouted to the sergeant, “Come along, Malvoisin! Where is the rest- of your section?” Malvoisin gave a dry chuckle, "We’re all here, Captain.” Petaud never turned a hair. "Oh, I see. It's like that.” And he gave the order of advance. : They started shelling us with shrap- [ nel as soon as we moved, but anything ■ was better than being wiped out like ants in that ditch. (To be Continued Tomorrow.)