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Show bank. In the McKenzIe Bend rountr) why, we'd call thl a creek down where I come from " "Nrw, It ain't much river an' no more lg yonr dam' Trinity! I win raised In Sent Louie Ole Mlss'slp', now" "Well, rlvert In this country are mainly over-touted. That Manip, It wouldn't be much more'n u branch, down South. I never saw that there Vesle river, but a guy In the Thirty-second division, that was with me In Neuilly, tie says you could mighty near jump across It." "Heard anything about chow? Galleys went on ahead awhile ago when do we ent " For four years no hostile troops with arms In their hands had seen this river; only sad flies of prisoners had g., i .1 .... j FIX BAYONETS! 1 l : markobl Srrio by on Officer of tht Marintt Wi jjj ; ;; . . Capt, JOHN W. THOMASON, Jr. $ 4 V L tlltaBtrated by tb Author from v J Sketch Made on th Bttleflld T; ft J 'Old Gray Mare She Ain't What She Ulster Be' ometh!n' like 'Th U. B. flag; will fly ovr Oai-many !. than a year from now ' and now It la, un' It's a pity he ain't here to set, It" "Well, but he' restln' easy where he Is me, I'm cold as hell an' thl dam' drlnzls Is dralnln' down my neck " There was nothing but the mist and the ruin, and a meun, cold little wind with a bite In it. North and south, from the edge of Holland to the MeU gateway, all the armies were marching. march-ing. Ahead, Just out of contact, went the German armies. The battalion passed a dense little wood of firs Christmas-tree woods, the battalion called them. This clump showed unmistakably that it had been a camp; but there was no litter; the Roche who blvou- i CHAPTER X Continued 14 These German roads were all honestly hon-estly metaled, but the Inch or so of mud on the surface was like soup underfoot, and the overcoats soaked up the rain like blotting-paper. It was the kind of a morning with no line between night and daylight. The blackness turned to gray, and, after a while, the major, on his horse, could look back and see the end of his column. The battalion, he reflected, re-flected, was up to strength again. It hadn't been this large since It went to Blanc Mont, the end of September. He shut his eyes on that thought r. " a hundred and thirty men that enme out, where a thousand went In then replacements, and,' after the armistice', armis-tice', more replacements. Perhaps the quality was running down a little. The new chaps didn't seem as tall mid broad as the old men, the tall, sunburnt Leotheruecks that went out the road from Meaux, toward Chateau-Thltsrry, Chateau-Thltsrry, In the spring. Odd, Just six months since the spring. . . . But a few veterans and hard drilling between fights would keen the temner In nn niifflt nckeu there had left It neat and clean. Along the road In orderly piles were some hundreds of the round German helmets, and parked precisely In a cleared place, where horse-lines had been, was u battery of 05 field howitzers. how-itzers. The old Boche was jettisoning jettison-ing what he didn't need. The battalion battal-ion observed and was thoughtful. "What about the ole Boche? You think he was licked enough?'' "No, I don't. That stuff back there, they laid It down under orders, like they do everything. It's stacked it ain't just thrown away. An' look how they police up behind themselves " "Teh ! Remember the other day, when we was advance-guard, we could see their rear-guard, sometimes perfect order, an' all that not like a defeated defeat-ed outfit, at all!" "Sure! I hope to spit In yo' mess-kit it ain't ! An' those little towns back yonder, with the nrclies an' the flags and the welcome rtturuln' heroes stuff none o' that was for us " "They ain't licked enough. Look at this country winter plowin' done everything ship-shape no shell-holes no barb' wire who Jh hell won this war, anyway?" "You said It. We oughter got up In here an' showed the old Boche witnf 1 17c1a litre trt linrro o tt- n - 4 crossed It, under German guard. The battalion turned right on the eastern bank and went up the river, on a broad road between a cliff and the swift black water. There were many houses, a continuous town. It was past noon of a Friday, the 13th December, De-cember, and the Boche school-children were out. They gathered to look at the passing column. The marines eyed . . one remembered a phrase in an order of the division commander's "The Second division has never faile.1 to Impose Its will upon the enemy. . . ." And today It crossed the Gorman Gor-man Rhine. . . . He swung out of Ms saddle and stood, by the ro-ad to watch them pass ; 1,200 men, helmets and rifles gleaming a Uttl? In the wet gray light The road led eastward through a country of low hills, sodden In the rain. Untidy clouds sprawled on the crests and spilled wet filaments Into the valleys. The land was all In cultivation, cul-tivation, laid off In precise squares r.nd oblongs; some newly plowed, sonu sparsely green with turnips and rape. It looked ugly and ordered and sullenly sullen-ly prosperous. There was slow conversation con-versation In the column. " Anybody know where we goln' today?" "Damfino naw I did hear the skipper's orderly say we'd make i lie Rhine, some time " "How far " "Some guy was looklu" at a map at battalion. Said It was about thirty kllomets." "It's always 'bout thirty klloniets In this dam' country " "Yfch ! But I remember one time It was twelve kilomets. The night we hiked up to Verdun, back last March. Had a Frawg guide tittle shrimp wit' a forked beard. Ask him how far, all -he'd say was : 'Dooz kilomets dooz his own yard." "Well, I've been Id all of It, an' pers'nally I was glad when the shootin' stopped. I got me some sleep an' a full belly, an' a pair of new shoes nn' some fireman's underwear, under-wear, too. An' I was right proud not to be killed. I ain't prepared to die " "We know you ain't, sergeant we1 know" "Aw, belay that I mean, 1 was glad, myself, but. we oughter gone on oughter've finished It while we waa at It. He wasn't licked enough, an' now rje's goln' home like a peacock wit' seven tails I" This was the consensus of opinion, delivered with consideration in the rain. The replacements, especially those who had Joined up after the armistice, In Belgium, were savagely regretful. The chaps who had come in after Champagne, and been among those present at one fight, were bloodthirsty, but to a lesser degree. Only the veterans were entirely colm. The rain fell, the road grew heavier. The battalion, soaked and miserable, plodded on. They passed through many villages, all alike ; all ugly and without character. T,he houses were closed and shuttered. You saw few people, but you always had the feeling feel-ing of eyes behind the shutters. One thick-bodied Boche, In uniform an artilleryman, by his leather breeches stood In the doorway of a house. onuiL-intf a nnrpplnln nlno tlml- hnnn. tbem keenly. These kids were different. They did not point or talk or cry out, after the manner of children. They stood In stolid groups, wooden-faced, with unwinking un-winking pale-blue eyes. Tho boys were nearly all In field-grny uniform cloth cut down, perhaps, from the cast-off clothes of an elder. Some of them wore boots and round soldier-caps. soldier-caps. They carried books and lunch-boxes, lunch-boxes, knapsack fashion, on their shoulders. "Look, will you that kid there ain't more'n a yea'rlin', and they've got him In heavy marchln' order a'ready !" "Yeh, they start 'em early that's howcome they're the way they are these Boche." There were round-faced little girls with straw-colored braids, In cloaks. They did not look poorly fed, like the waxen-faced children the battalion remembered re-membered in France. And at every corner there were more of them. The battalion was impressed. "Say you see all those kids all those little square-heads! Hundreds of 'em. I'll swear! Something's got to be done about these people. I tell you, these Boche are dangerous I They have too many children " . One more -song "Long Boy." One of the very few soldier songs that survived the Atlantic voyage although It suffered some sea change was "Long Boy." It ran (with varia- i 11 Liiuci r "Hiked all night in the rain, like this, an' at daylight we came to a tilL-n, wit' the name of the place we're goin' to. an' It said 'Dooz kilomets' that guide, he let on that he was right su'prlsed " But there were very few men in the column who remembered remem-bered the hlk( to Verdun, In the early spring of 191S; In one company to his knee. His face was set In a cast of hate. He stood and stared, and the battalion, passing, looked him over with respect. "Understand a bird like that." "Yeh he's honest. Those dam' Helnles In the billet lust night, they made me sick. That, fellow that talked English. Says he was glad his American Amer-ican frlen's, present by ogreement In tlons) : "Good-bye, Maw! Good bye. Paw. Good-bye, mule, with your old heehaw. hee-haw. ... I'll bring you a Turk an' a Kaiser too, And that's about all on fellow can do. ..." This file pictured above is cheering his soul in the angle of the bridge at SlIly-le-Long, just outside of Cognac Pete's buvette. In a little while an M. P. with no ear for music will run him In. THE END. ine uneinian , to welcome says tnat to me, an' Would the Herr Soldier like a good cup of coffee?" "Dam' his remarks -how 'bout the coffee?" "Well, it tasted funny, but It was hot." "Old guy at our billet gave us some cognac. Hot stuff! He didn't let on, though. Von know those trick cer-tlfcates cer-tlfcates a soldier's family gets In Germany? Colored picture like a Croi' Guerre certificate, shows a fat, beer-drinkin' Heinle angel standln' over a dead Boche signed Wilhelm I. It. you know. "Well, this bird had fix of them In his front room, all framed on the wall. I gathered they was his sons. Four bumped off at Verdun In 1010. Ont very recent Solssons, July. Wonder If we met that fella? He stood there an' looked at me while I was rendln' them, an' he looked "line n wolf. I don't blame him. But how come he gave us the cognac ?" Later the battalion learned thnt th Boche had orders to be hospitable. . . . Toward noon tiit- clouds lifted, and the rain slowed to a thin drlzxle, although al-though It did not stop. The battalion filed between hills toward a great Men Walked Silent, Remembering th Old Dead. eight. In another eleven; In the whole battalion the barest handful. It had been a long road. The first way-8tn-Hon was the Bols tie Belleau ; a lot of people stopped there,, and were 'here yet. And there were more, comfortably com-fortably rotting In the Foret de Hel, pouth of Solssons. And more yet, well dead around Blanc Mont. Ami a vast Arift of them back In hospitals. Men walked client, reiiu-mberlng the old dead. . . . Twelve hundred men hiking to the Kliine, and how many ghosts. . . . The mist rolled around the column. You replacements never knew Corp'vnl Snalr, rhnt got bumped off at Soissons, dnllyin' with a Maxim gun. He was a musical ctiss, an' ho uster sing a song to the tune of th j valley, dimly seen. The hills towered over them, dark, menacing "No wonder won-der the ole Boche has such a mean disposition, livln' in a country like this" The battalion came into a town with paved streets and trolley-cars trolley-cars and fall factory chimneys that did not smoke. Platoon commanders said It was Hemngen ; thosi- towers to the right would be the bridge. There was a brtdce, great stop! structure of high black arches. The battalion filed upon It. Under It black water flowed swiftly, with surges and eddies dimpled by the rain. High rocky htlis cnin down out of the mist on the further side. "So this Is the Uhlne." remarked the battalion. "Hell!" A few tiles were Interested. A lank Texan said: "I don't see much to make a fuss about. You boys ever sec the Trinity In overflow over-flow time? Tcu nillea rrom buuk to j |