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Show '.- - I 12 . THE SALT LAKE TELEGRAM. THURSDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 23, 1937. - NO HERO-THIS By WARWICK DEEPING xxvin The Americans. I think we are not a little Jealous of these men from across the Atlantic, Atlan-tic, for perhaps we feel that the last dramatic act of the war will find them filling the stage. Yet when one considers it, their coming into this war from the great distances dis-tances of all those states is a wonderful won-derful and a singular adventure and perhaps more splendid and unselfish un-selfish than ours. Whatever history may say about it, to me it is one of the most splendid and superlative things that have happened since the first Crusade. One of their battalions la to march into Beauchamp and our brigadier and a platoon, or rather the training train-ing cadre of one of our battalions, are to receive them. The French have put on their Sunday clothes and an excitement that is big with emotion. Gabrielle la trying to point out to her mother what she insists Is an airplane. "There. Like a great black bird. I wish I had a gun and could bring It falling, falling. I would like it to fall in flames' But I am conscious of nothing but the hand I hold and the arm that presses gently against mine and the little bead so very near my shoulder. My God, she loves me! It is ecstasy and anguish. Another bomb falls, and nearer to Le MesniL Gabrielle turns sharply and our hands slip apart. I cannot sleep tonight I sit at my window a long time, thinking. Somewhere in this silent house she, too. may be awake. Is it as wonderful wonder-ful and hopeless to her as it is to me? And yet somehow I would not have it otherwise. My fate is not here. This is but a dream dreamed in the month of May, an exquisite phantasy from wheh I shall awake in soma trench or cellar. But I am glad that it haa happened hap-pened like this. So exquisite a thing Is not to be soiled by the flesh. We look at each other differently now, mysteriously and yet with a kind of chldlike candor. My eyes love her and her eyes give me love in return. Do those others realize? Perhaps. Madame Is as maternal as ever and speaks to me almost as if I belonged. Is It that she trusts me? I hope so. Poor Gabrielle is, I think, blind to everything every-thing but her own inward stresses. She haa bad no news and goes about like a woman whose soul Is covered by a dark cloak. (To be continued) Copyright 1937, for The Telegram a shadow that aeems suddenly to disentangle itself from the cross. It is a woman rising from her knees. I am about to apologise for disturbing dis-turbing her when I see her face in the moolight "Madamoiselle Pauline!" She stands there quite still I gather that she has been praying pray-ing here and I feel like some tourist tour-ist who has blundered into a chapel and found a woman at her devotions. devo-tions. "I am sorry. I came this way to look at the wood. Shall I leave you here?" I am about to leave her when shs makes a sudden movement and says rather breathlessly: "No. if you please, I will come with you." We walk side by side, yet a little lit-tle apart down the moonlit road. I say, "Forgive me. Can I put It Into French? I feel that you have bad bad news." A Short Silence There Is short silence, and then she says, almost curtly, "Will you do me a favor. Monsieur Brent? I do not wish that officer, Carless, you call him, I think, to come again to our house." t look at her sharply. "Hrs he been to your house?" She nods. "He Is not gentle. He behaves to me " Damn Carleas! Has the fool been trying the gaillard game on this child? I try to tell her In blundering French that if Carless has been making a fool of himself the thing is unforgivable. I will make sure that It shall not happen again. We reach ths village and there are things I am burning to say that I cannot aay, but just before we come to the gate I manage to blurt out a few words. "Please tell me, this hasn't spoilt our friendship?" She gives me a sudden strange look. "No, monsieur." "Thank you, Pauline." I open the gate to let her go in The Americans Arrive Our English platoon Is drawn up in the place opposite the church. Some U. S. A. staff officers have arrived ar-rived upon the scene and are talking talk-ing to our general They are big men, with bard, dry, dusty fares. The battalion arrives. It haa marched seven miles, but comss in with a swing and a swagger, gray canvas gaiters well together, the tight trim uniform making the men look slim yet big about the shoulders. shoul-ders. They are a fierce, fine lot and as I look at them I am conscious of a thrill that is a curious compound com-pound of jealousy, Joy and sadness. Ths French are cheering. This civilian crowd of peasants is moved by some elemental emotion. I see girls throwing flowers at their new heroes and ruining along and holding hold-ing to the nren's arms, Thia battalion bat-talion of strong, fresh young men from over the seaa is to them a symbol, sym-bol, a sign of hope, a blessed pledge that their country will not again be ravished. Three American medical offlcera from their bearer companies have been attached to us for instruction. I liks these Americans, particularly Major Richmond, who corresponds to our D. A. D. M. 8. He is a tall, grave, pale man with a sudden smile and a dry humor that delights me. Richmond and I soon come to understand under-stand each other. He Is a southerner southern-er and full of flexibility in spite of his rather austere manner. Nor is his voics quits that of a Yankee. He speaks French with soms fluency. flu-ency. Our talk becomes intimate and easy. I confess to him that at first I was conscious of a vague feeling of unfriendliness between England and America. He laughs gently. "We are a little sensitive. Also we come as raw troops." "Did you expect to find us patronising?" patron-ising?" "Perhana." with me, for I have a feeling that she may wish to go In alone. I am strangely and exquisitely sad. Is there any sin in ths love that has come to me? Does it clssh with that other love? Yes and no. For, though I seem to live In a dream stats here, my waking self goes over the sea to those at home with a more poginant tenderness. I know that this is a dream and that my other world Is reality. The war has corns to this peaceful peace-ful country. It arrives In ths night, German bombing machines searching search-ing for the dumps In the Somme valley. They are trying to blow Abbeville and the railway traige to blazes. This conquest of the air has been nothing but a curse and it seems to ms that man, like an evil little boy, will continue to make his new toys a murderous menace. On these fine, still nites one can hear the German planes, the double dou-ble purr of the twin engines. How strange that it should happen like thia and that a Boche bombing plane should bring us together! It is a perfect night and a raid Is in progress. I come down from my room and find ths Maleunays in the garden. 1 place myself beside Pauline. A bomb has fallen somewhere some-where near Beauchamp. We are all looking heavenward and Gabrielle, Ga-brielle, suddenly excited, protests that ahe can see the plane. She is pointing. We can bear ths double drone of the engines. "Up there, over the beech tree." I Do Not Realize I do not realize bow near I am to La Petite until our arms touch. Shs does not flinch away. My hand touches hers. Perhaps I maks a movement of the fingers, and I feel her fingers In mine. Our bands close In quick mutual consent "God forbid. I think ft comes down to this, that ws have had to learn with blood and tears, and if ws can save you some of the blood " He stands quite still for a moment, looking up at the moon. "Can you. Brent? I wonder! I suppose war la rather like growing up. "We're wild young guys and we shall have to go through the bloody business for ourselves. That seems to be a law of nature." I Lie The Americans Tea, I liks these Americans, their vitality, their keenness, tbeir engaging en-gaging candor. I am impressed by the passion for thoroughness in many of their officers, and I like their phrase. "Fall down." Colonel Muller is always using it when inspecting in-specting soms of his units. "I don't want you boya to fall down." As to their phrase. -Falling down." I. give them one place of candid advice. I tell them that we have learned to transcend false modesty when shells ars about, and that there is shame, but horse sense, in falling down. -We call it doing, a belly-flop, sir." That seems to tickle Muller to death. He caresses bis somewhat : mature abdomen.. "Well, air, I have , something to flop on!" I have been dining with the ' American staff at Beauchamp.. The mood moves me to walk back by way of ths Bo is rAbbaya. Beyond the wood the narrow road rune between be-tween open fields, and when I came to the Crucifix and Its lime trees my mood moves me te yet another whim. I turn aside toward the great cross and when I am within three garde el It I am startled by, |