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Show : I' a WORLD WAR YARNS : by Lieut. Frank E. Hagan Born on the Battlefield On the morning of July 10, 1018, as the One hundred fourth infantry was advancing into Chateau Thierry during dur-ing the Battle of Belleau Wood, a plaintive whine was heard by members mem-bers of Company L. The soldiers traced the noise to a large sheJl hole and there lay a dog and five small puppies. The mother dog and four of the youngsters bad fallen a victim to shrapnel, but the puppy whose whines had drawn his rescuers to the place was unharmed. On (he mother's neck was a brass collar, hearing the Inscription In-scription "Capt. Carl Von Hetzenber-ger, Hetzenber-ger, Imperial German army " He had evidently abandoned the dog in the . haste of evacuation and she with the pups to which-she had given hirlh in the midst of the fighting was unable to follow." "Hello, Sausage!" said Private Paul Coy of Greenfield, Mass., as he pick. the whimpering puppy up and dropped him into his overcoat pocket. And "Sausage" he was to the members of the One hundred fourth from that time on. He remained with the regiment regi-ment until the close of the war. taking tak-ing part in every battle in which it engaged. He was at Belleau Wood, Ar-gonne Ar-gonne Forest, Verdun and St. Mihiel. In the se:ond Battle of the Marne a piece of shrapnel tore a two-inch gash in the back of "Sausage's" neck and lie was badly gassed with mustard gas. But he lived through these and three other wounds to come to the United States with the One hundred and fourth and to be discharged with his buddy. Coy, who took the dog with bim to Greenfield. During 1925 "Sausage" made a tour of the southern states with Coy, visiting vis-iting tlie various posts of the American Amer-ican Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars, where he wore his "full dress uniform," a blue woolen blanket, hearing hear-ing on one shot'der four wound stripes, on the other his three war service chevrons, and on the back the numerals 104. The effects of the gassing gas-sing he had received made it hard for him to breathe at times and it was necessary to help him with artificial respiration. Taps were sounded for "Sausage" in April, 1930, he having died just a short time before the annual an-nual reunion of the .ne hundred fourth at which he had been a familiar famil-iar figure for nearly a decade. His Curiosity Was Satisfied An officer who was on detached service with the British during the latter days of the war tells a story about the late B. M. Holt, prominent business man of Caldwell, Idaho. Holt's adventurous spirit revolted against the prosaic surround.' gs of the Red Cross at Paris. He visited the front. He told an officer he would like to see some real action. "All right," -eplieo that worthy. "The British are crossing the canal just north of here tomorrow morning. Sergeant Davenport is going over with them. You go along." . Holt turned out next morning at dawn when the barrage started. He returned just before noon, drawn and weary. "Well," asked his friend. "How did it go?" "Say," replied Holt. "That sergeant is crazy." "Why? What happened?" "We were going down a paved road just at daybreak," said Holt, "and the ' Germans were shellirg it. Those big ones sure splatter when an instantaneous instan-taneous fuse hits a cobblestone. "I crawled in a hole alongside the road with three 'Tommies' and looked f for Davenport. There he was. Going If on, paying no attention. So. beine ashamed, I crawled out and followed. "Then we came to the canal. The engineers put a bridge across and Fritz blew it up. They die' it again, and the same thing happened. Then they got one down, and Davenport was the first man across. "Right then," concluded Holt with something of relief, "I remembered I was only a spectator, with a family in Idaho. I came hack." No Time to Waste Peacetime drivers of automobiles ap predate that at times one encounters certain "blind" 3pots In traflit where it Is difficult to observe an approach ing machine. Such conditions, greatly magnified, added to the problems of an aviator's flight into battle. One day Lieut. Ned Buford of Nash ville, Tenn., a wartime ace, shoved off in search of adventure. Little time elapsed until he found what he sought. A Boche photographing machine suddenly sud-denly appeared and proceeded to go about Its business of making pictures pic-tures of the fortified terrain beneath. Buford banked -lis plane, obtained a point of vantage and prepared to swoop upon the unsuspecting enemy. Just as he got within safe range and was about to release a stream of bullets bul-lets a machine gun spoke from an entirely en-tirely unsuspected locality. The German Ger-man plane burst into flames and plunged downward followed closely by ( Buford and Lieut. David Putnam, an intimate friend of the American. They landed together, near the wrecked plane. "It just goes to show," was Buford's compliment to his flying comrade, "that you can't waste any time getting your Boche if Putnam Is around." E) 1931. Western Newspaper Union.) I |