Best Stories of the 1914 European War

WOMAN GETS COUNT’S SWORD BELGIAN SOLDIERS LEAVING FOR THE FRONT. ALL KINDS OF ROLLING STOCK WERE REQUISITIONED FOR THIS PURPOSE. Photo by International News Service. German battery, bayoneting all the German gunners. “Their losses, it is said, exceeded those of the Light Brigade at Balaklava. Of a whole battalion only 100 men, it is reported, returned unscathed. Their bravery, however, was powerless against the German advance, which crept, foot by foot, through the outskirts of Charleroi to the very heart of the town. “There in the narrow streets the carnage was indescribable. A French infantryman told me that the roads became so jammed with dead that the killed remained standing upright where they had been shot, supported by their dead comrades.” WOMAN GETS COUNT’S SWORD This incident occurred during the fighting before Charleroi, cables a war correspondent: “Yet another band of Uhlans was captured Sunday at the gates of Courtrai by a detachment of French chasseurs. Their chief officer was found to be Lieut. Count von Schwerin, a nephew of the Kaiser. The young commander is only 25 years old and has been married only seven months. The officer commanding the French detachment found that the Count’s sword was a present from the Emperor himself and bore an inscription to that effect on the blade. “The Count’s saber, belt and helmet were brought to-day to St. Ouen and presented to the wife of the officer who made the capture. The sword was blood-stained and its point twisted.” “CRIME TO SPARE SPY’S LIFE” The correspondent of the Paris Temps , who had occasion to follow them on the way to the front, is loud in his admiration of the British soldiers’ discipline, equipment and commissariat arrangements. But what he admired most was the summary methods of dealing with spies, every one convicted being shot immediately. A British captain explained his attitude through a French interpreter as follows: “You French pride yourselves on your humanity in cases where humanity is a mere useless sentimentality. To spare the life of a spy by postponing his trial is a crime against our own troops. A spy may be able by some means to convey a harvest of news to his own side, so as to enable the enemy to surprise us precisely when we hoped to surprise him. In such cases, inopportune indulgence may cost the lives of several hundreds of our own troops.” CHANGE SCHMIDT TO SMITH Naturalized German shopkeepers in London are taking unusual precautions against possible boycotts. The following notice, posted on a bakery in Soho, is being copied by other dealers: “Two hundred and fifty dollars reward will be given to any charitable institution upon the discovery by any persons of adulteration in the bread sold in this establishment. “God bless our King and country. The proprietor of this business wishes to inform the public that he is a naturalized British subject of many years standing and his loyalty is equal to that of any of the most gracious Majesty’s subjects, whom he treats and respects as man to man.” One German banker in South London, whose name was “Schmidt,” promptly changed it to “Smith.” CAMP FOR GERMAN SUSPECTS A huge concentration camp for the thousands of German suspects who have been rounded up by Scotland Yard in all parts of England is being constructed at Blackdown near Aldershot. The corral, which covers forty acres, is fenced by barbed wire strung on ten-foot posts. Outside is another circle of barbed wire entanglements and between the two sentries will pace with loaded rifles. The prisoners will be housed in quarters built of galvanized iron and will be fed on ordinary army rations. HEROISM OF PRINCE Wounded soldiers arriving at Frankfort-on-Main relate that Prince Frederick Charles of Hesse, the Emperor’s brother-in-law, while leading his regiment during a recent battle seized a flag from the hands of the wounded flag bearer and carried it on to victory. “GOOD-BY, MR. FLYING MAN!” The London Daily Mail correspondent at Rouen obtained a description of the British fighting from a wounded man belonging to the Berkshire regiment, who said: “We marched into Mons about 10 o’clock, and were just going to be billeted when the order came for us to fall in again and get a move on. We’d been marching since 4 o’clock. It had been blazing hot and still we were wanted. We were to advance under cover of artillery fire; but in the meantime the enemy were doing a bit of artillery practice, too, so we threw up trenches and snuggled down in them. “They did not keep us waiting long. The German gunners were over a ridge two or three miles in front, and their shells soon came whistling round us. I got what they call my baptism of fire, and at first I did not like it. In the daytime they had aeroplanes to tell them where to drop their shells. They were flying about all the time. One came a bit too near our gunners. He was a long way behind us. They waited and let him come on. He thought he was all right. Two thousand feet he was up, I dare say. We could hear his engine. “He may have made a lot of notes, but they weren’t any use to him or anybody, for all of a sudden our gunners let fly at him. We could see the thing stagger and then it dropped like a stone, all crumpled up. ‘Good-by, Mr. Flying Man!’ That was the end of him. “In the dark they turned on searchlights. We could see them hunting about for some one to pot at. Uncanny, that was, to see a blooming big lane of light working round and round until it came to something. Then we heard the shells whistle, and when it came round to us and lit us up so that we could see each other’s faces, it made my blood run cold, just like I used to feel when I was a nipper and woke up and saw the light and thought it was a ghost, and we lay there wondering what would happen next.” WOMAN SAW ZEPPELIN WORK In the crowd of refugees arriving in London from Ostend were a dozen Americans, who made their way out of Antwerp with hand baggage only. Among them was Mrs. George Sparrow of New York, who had left Liége soon before that city was besieged by the Germans. She said: “In Antwerp I was aroused one night by a loud boom, which I imagined was caused by a cannon firing in the fort, but, looking out of a window, I saw a Zeppelin airship, apparently quite near. I could plainly hear the buzz of its motor. A bomb from it fell only a few blocks away, the explosion of which was followed by an outbreak of fire. “Many persons ran from the houses panic-stricken. Some of the women were hysterical. It was a fearful night. I got out of the city next morning with several other Americans and went to Ostend, where I spent last night.” SAW WOMEN SHOT A woman refugee from Framerie, near Mons, told the following story to the relief committee in Paris: “My husband is with the Belgian army and I was left with my three babies in our cottage. All was quiet until Monday, when the Germans came. They sacked and destroyed everything in the house. There remains of our poor village nothing but ruins. I saw one of the soldiers strike one of my neighbors in the breast with his sword. Then he flourished the bloody blade as though proud of the feat. Some women who had hidden in their cellars were shot. “A woman from Peronne le Bincher started out with one of her neighbors who carried a young baby at her breast. Suddenly the mother perceived that the little one was dead. She could not bear this new shock and lost her reason. When she was helped out of the train on reaching Paris she still held and was crooning over the body of her child.” FOUGHT SINGING MARSEILLAISE A correspondent of the London Times at Ostend says: “I have obtained the following details of the siege of Namur from two Belgian soldiers. They informed me that the Germans attacked the town during a dense fog, and for two days the bombardment never ceased. The open town was reduced to ruins and the carnage among the inhabitants was appalling. The forts of Cognelee and Marchovelette were silenced by heavy German siege guns of 11-inch caliber. “The 148th French Regiment of the line, coming from Givet, proudly marched into the town to the strains of ‘The Marseillaise’—this during a murderous hail of projectiles. Alas, they had arrived too late! Namur had become an inferno, and at midday the order was given to retreat.” RODE INTO DEATH’S JAWS A correspondent describing the fighting before Malines says: “I could see dark blue masses of Belgian infantry falling back, cool as on a winter’s morning. Through a mistake, two battalions of carbineers did not receive the order to retire and were in imminent danger of destruction. To reach them a messenger would have had to traverse a mile of open road swept by shrieking shrapnel. A Colonel summoned a gendarme and gave him the orders and he set spurs to his horse and tore down the road, an archaic figure in towering bearskin. It was a ride into the jaws of death. “He saved his troops, but as they fell back the German gunners got the range and dropped shell upon shell into the running column. Road and fields were dotted with corpses in Belgian blue. “At noon the Belgians and Germans were in places only fifty yards apart, and the rattle of musketry sounded like a boy drawing a stick along the palings of a picket fence. The railway embankment from which I viewed the battle was fairly carpeted with corpses of infantrymen killed yesterday. I saw peasants throw twelve into one grave.” TROOPER BROKE GIRL’S JAW An old man sitting in a corner of a stack of straw told the following story to a correspondent in Paris: “People call me Jean Beaujon. I have a little wine shop just across the river from Liège, in the town of Grivegnee. When the mobilization order was announced my two sons, both fine fellows, went off to join their regiments. My daughters—I have two, this one here and another—remained with their old father.” The girl he motioned to was a bright-faced girl of about 16, but only her eyes were visible, as the rest of her face was swathed in bandages. He continued: “You see her poor, dear face? Well, a German was the cause of that. When they came they demanded wine, which I gave them, and one man tried to insult her. When she resented this he struck her and broke her jaw. “My other daughter, becoming very tired after a time,” he went on, “sat down by the roadside while this girl and I went on ahead to try to find some means of conveyance. A little further on we came upon a riderless horse, and after great difficulty we both succeeded in mounting and went back to find my daughter. We had not been gone more than half an hour, but when we returned she was no longer there.” WOMAN’S GRIM RETORT The wife of Gen. Metzinger, a distinguished French officer, whose son, a captain in the army, was recently wounded, was traveling from Switzerland to Lorraine a short time ago, cables a Sun correspondent. She says she overheard a conversation between two German officers during a rainstorm. One said: “Oh, I left my umbrella in a hotel in Paris.” The other replied: “Never fear, you will be able to go and get it next week.” “Pray, do not trouble yourselves,” interrupted Mme. Metzinger; “my son, who is a captain in the French army, will undertake to bring it himself.” The two officers alighted hastily at the next station. “I KNOW NOTHING, SIR!” The Cologne correspondent of Der Tyd says: “An endless train rolls into the station at Cologne. In it have arrived 700 French prisoners taken at Muelhausen and Lagarde, Alsace-Lorraine. They were dressed in red trousers and short, dark-blue coats. One could see that they had been in a fight. They were unkempt and badly in need of a wash and a shave. “I remember having read somewhere that a French Senator had declared there was a great shortage of shoes for the French troops. I have seen 100,000 German soldiers going to the front, every one of them wearing a brand new pair of russet shoes, heavy enough to withstand any campaign. But there were no such shoes among these French prisoners. Their footgear was of a flimsy character and worn so badly that in most cases their toes were protruding. They ate greedily of bread and drank eagerly the tea and coffee that were handed to them. “The faces of most of them were blank and expressionless. They conversed among themselves in an undertone. I asked one something about Lagarde. “ ‘I know nothing,’ he answered sullenly. “But after I told him he was speaking with a Hollander and not with a German he modified his reply to: ‘I will say nothing, sir.’ ” DRUNK WITH BATTLE JOY To the Paris Matin’s correspondent at Chartres, a colonial infantryman, wounded at Charleroi, told his experiences in the battle: “We marched with our African comrades against the Prussian guard,” he said. “We advanced in bounds amid the humming bullets, using every bit of cover we could. We felt intoxicated with the joy of battle. “I couldn’t say how long the action lasted. All I remember is that we fired our last shot within fifty yards of the enemy. Then it was the pitiless thrust of cold steel. It would have given us the victory, for however intrepid and steady are the troops we fight against there are no soldiers in the world able to resist the Turcos’ bayonet charge.” MODERN BULLETS DRILL CLEAN “It is comforting to learn that dozens of the wounded in the great conflict hardly suffer at all. Modern bullets are so small and hot and come with such velocity that they drill a hole even through the bone and disinfect as they pass, on account of the heat,” cables a correspondent. “One man was shot through the pit of the stomach, the bullet having gone out at the back, just missing the spine. It was two days after the wound was received, and the man was sitting up and asking the doctor when he could go back and if it would be more than a week before he could again be at the enemy. “Some of the men did not know they were hit until several hours later, believing if they felt anything that it merely had been a knock. All the men are mad for bayonet work. They agree that it is only the German officers who stand up at all, and that the men are almost all bayoneted in the back, while the officers shoot with revolvers.” THIRTY LEFT OUT OF 2,000 The London Chronicle’s Boulogne correspondent sends the personal story of a wounded soldier who has arrived there and who declared he was one of thirty survivors of a British company of 2,000, who were practically wiped out by the German artillery. His story follows: “We were five solid days in the trenches and moved backward and forward all that time with the varying tide of battle. It was about 2 o’clock in the morning when the end came. Things had got quieter and our officers came along the line and told us to get some sleep. We were preparing to obey when a light or something else gave us away and we found ourselves in an inferno of bullets. “We could do nothing. Down upon us the shrapnel hailed and we fell by the score. Practically at the same time the enemy’s Maxims opened fire. We were almost without shelter when we were caught and we crawled along in front to find cover. Leave everything and retire was the order, and we did what we could to obey. I don’t know how long it lasted, but when dawn came I could see not more than thirty men at the most were left out of about 2,000.” OLD AND YOUNG ALIKE KILLED The Ghent correspondent of the London Daily News says in a despatch: “I have just been talking to the latest refugees from Malines. They left there yesterday about 4 o’clock, during a lull in the fighting. Out of 60,000 inhabitants, a business man among them told me, hardly 200 are left in town. Many are dead. The rest have fled. “ ‘It has been hell,’ he said, ‘since Monday. The town was shelled from both sides. The cathedral, the square and half the houses are in ruins. Old people and young have been killed. Yesterday I found a quiet old gentleman of 83, whom I have known for years, lying in one of the trenches by the roadside, utterly exhausted by his flight. His face was in a pool of water. “ ‘Of a family of seven who were friends of ours not one is left. A shell struck their house on Tuesday morning, and all were killed.’ ” LEFT TIP FOR POLICE “A fugitive from south of Flanders says that eight Uhlans appeared at Alost, telling the inhabitants that 4,000 more were in the immediate neighborhood, and if the townspeople did not keep quiet they would set fire to the place,” writes a correspondent. “They ordered that the town cash box be handed to them and found 131½ francs in it. They took 130 francs, leaving an I. O. U., ‘Received for Emperor William II.’ The one and a half francs were left as a tip for the police. “The whole situation around Ostend has changed. I must not say how many men have landed, but a belt of country a few miles wide around the town was thoroughly scouted yesterday by men who softly whistled and sang ‘My Little Gray Home in the West’ and similar ditties.” MINE KILLS WHOLE COMPANY “The truth about the withdrawing of the French troops from Alsace is that a body of French—probably a whole regiment—fell into an ambush laid by three German regiments,” writes a London Standard correspondent. “The Germans hid themselves in forest, hedges and ditches until the French had piled up their arms and were lying down to rest on the ground. The Germans then opened a murderous fire. The French rushed to arms, but by the time they got hold of their rifles large numbers had been killed or wounded. None the less the remainder charged the Germans, inflicting severe losses. The confusion caused by the surprise attack nevertheless compelled the French to withdraw all their forces in that region behind the frontier line. “During the French retreat one regiment lost a rear company, which was blown up by a mine. Their comrades, marching ahead of them in the line of retreat, suddenly heard a terrific report and saw a column of smoke. When the smoke cleared away there was no rear company left. Every member had been exterminated.” TITLED WOMEN PROUD OF SONS Five Englishwomen of title have addressed to the London press the following letter: “The undersigned have all near relations serving with the colors. Most of them have near relations who have borne and are bearing their part in the gallant and sanguinary battle which the British army is fighting against heavy odds on the northeast frontier of France. “We do not know what their fate has been, or yet may be, but if it is their fortune to die for their country we shall not show our sorrow as for those who come to a less glorious end. “A white band around one arm will mark both our loss and our grief. But it will do more. It will express the pride we feel in knowing that those who are nearest to us and dearest have given their lives to their country’s cause.” This letter is signed as follows: Evelyn Devonshire, Maude Lansdowne, Beatrice Pembroke, Edith Castlereagh, Elsie Kerry. These names stand for the Duchess of Devonshire, the Marchioness of Lansdowne, the Countess of Pembroke, the Countess of Castlereagh and the Countess of Kerry. “GERMANS A BRAVE LOT” “At times,” a French soldier declared in a letter to his home, “we could hardly hold our rifles—they were so hot. Often we had in the trenches no cover of any sort. We had just to dig up a heap of earth a foot high or so, and, lying behind it, pelt away for all we were worth. “Our shooting, I can assure you, was as steady as though our men were at the rifle ranges, and ever so often in front of our positions we could see the dead accumulating in great heaps. Far away on my right I saw at one time British cavalry charging. We took the risk and looked up to see it. Upon my word, it was a magnificent sight. I was too far off to see what happened when they got home, which they did with magnificent dash. I don’t think they lost heavily, at least, not very heavily, for we saw them get back again.” “And the Germans? What do you think of them?” I asked. “Not a great deal as shots, but the way they came on again and again throughout the day was great. They are a brave lot, and it took us all our time to hold them back; they had such enormous numbers.” COMMANDER GOES MAD A German officer sends the following account of the fall of Liége, says a Rotterdam dispatch to the London Daily Telegraph : “Gen. Leman’s defense of Liége was noble, but tragic. During the early attack Gen. Leman’s legs were crushed by the fall of a piece of concrete. Undaunted, he continued to direct his campaign, visiting the forts in an automobile ambulance. “The commander of one of the forts, at the moment when the bombardment was heaviest, went mad and began shooting his own men. He was disarmed and bound. The cupola of one of the forts was destroyed by a bomb from a Zeppelin. Fort Chaudfontaine was blown into oblivion by a German shell which dropped into the magazine. “Finally, Gen. Leman decided to make his last stand in Fort Loncin. When the end became inevitable he destroyed the last gun and burned up the plans, maps, papers and food supplies. He was about to order all the men to the trenches when a shell buried him beneath a pile of débris. He was unconscious when the fort surrendered.” SHOT 11 TIMES; STILL FIGHTING A correspondent at St. Petersburg got the following incident through the censor: “A Cossack hero, Kuzma Kriachkoff, who received eleven wounds in an outpost affair against the Germans and attracted the special attention of the Emperor while in the hospital at Moscow and petitioned to be allowed to return to his regiment, has arrived at Vilna, on his way to the front. “A Russian who has just returned from the wilds of Novgorod Province, far from the railways, gives an interesting account of the attitude of the peasantry toward the war and the action of the Government in prohibiting the sale of alcoholic drinks. He says: “ ‘I stopped at a little inn on the high road and ordered tea and something to eat. Some mujiks were there discussing their own affairs over the teapots. “The Lord be thanked, all Russia is happy now,” said one. I was interested to know why, and was told in a surprised tone, “Why, they’ve shut the drink shops, and all our men are as rosy-cheeked as lassies now.” ’ ” HERE’S A KITCHENER STORY There is an amusing story traversing London of a daily paper editor being summoned to the War Office in connection with an untrue “scare” story that had been published, cables a correspondent. He would get another chance, said Lord Kitchener, but on the next occasion he would be arrested. “On what charge will you arrest me?” asked the editor. “I’ll arrest you first,” answered Kitchener of Khartum, “and think about the charge afterward.” Is this the mailed fist? THEY HELD UP THE KAISER The Berlin Neue Zeit says that since the mobilization the Doberritz road has been strongly guarded by a Grenadier Guards regiment from Spandau. Last week the Kaiser motored along the road, his chauffeur continually sounding the Emperor’s special horn. Nevertheless, two sentries stopped the car, asking for the permit. The Kaiser said from the window of the car, “I should think my motor car might have been known as imperial property.” “Well, your Majesty,” replied one of the sentries, “we are commanded to bring to a standstill and investigate all cars without exception.” “SAY THAT I WAS UNCONSCIOUS!” This graphic incident of the fall of Liége was told a reporter for a Dutch paper by a German officer: “When the first dust and fumes passed away we stormed the fort across ground literally strewn with bodies of the defenders. All the men in the forts were wounded. Most were unconscious. A corporal with one arm shattered valiantly tried to drive us back by firing his rifle. “Buried in débris and pinned beneath a massive beam was Gen. Leman. ‘Le Général il est mort,’ said an aide-de-camp with gentleness. With care which showed our respect for the man who had resisted us so valiantly and stubbornly, our infantry released the General’s wounded form and carried him away. He recovered consciousness and said: “ ‘It is as it is. The men fought valiantly.’ He added: “ ‘Put it in your despatches that I was unconscious.’ “We brought him to our commander, General Von Emmich, and the two generals saluted. We tried to speak words of comfort, but he was silent. He is known as the ‘Silent General.’ Extending his hand, our commander said: “ ‘General, you have gallantly and nobly held your forts.’ General Leman replied: “ ‘I thank you. Our troops have lived up to their reputations.’ With a smile he added, ‘War is not like maneuvers.’ “This was a reference to the fact that General Von Emmich was recently with General Leman during the Belgian maneuvers. “Then, unbuckling his sword, General Leman tendered it to General Von Emmich. “ ‘No,’ replied the German commander with a bow, ‘keep your sword. To have crossed swords with you has been an honor.’ “And the fire in Gen. Leman’s eye was dimmed by a tear.” BAYONET CHARGES A RELIEF In the British hospital camp at Rouen many are lying very severely wounded, but all are cheerful and vowing vengeance. Women are sending up cart loads of fruit and flowers to the camp every day, and trainloads are also arriving, being taken by the Red Cross on trains and stretchers to the hospital camp. “A detachment of British arrived from the front this morning,” says a despatch. “A major, badly wounded, was exchanging jokes with wounded soldiers and was smiling. He said all he wanted was coffee. Everybody immediately rushed off and returned with coffee and cider. “Members of the Fusilliers said that on Wednesday the regiment lined up for breakfast, when the German artillery started shelling them. Perfect order was maintained by the men, who began building earthworks, which, however, were knocked down as soon as finished. They were finally forced to retire owing to the Germans’ superior numbers and suffered the loss of three companies during the retreat. “British soldiers who fought at Mons said that while digging trenches they were forced to lie still under fire and do nothing but deliver a few bayonet charges. One man said: “ ‘A bayonet dash was a glorious relief after the galling inaction. Our fellows dashed at them as if doing a 100-yard sprint. The Germans looked sick at the sight of cold steel, as they always do, then turned and ran, some throwing away their straps and rifles. We would have liked to chase them forever, but were called back. I got in a stab at a German and told him to pass it on to the Kaiser.’ “The order to retire was a bitter disappointment. Another soldier said: “ ‘It was bad enough to lie still with German shells doing the nasty all around us, but to fall back and let the infantry pot us was the limit. I consoled myself with the thought that perhaps I would be in a procession when the Kaiser was taken in chains from the Mansion House to the Chelsea pensioners’ home.’ ” “WOMAN” SPY FOOLED GIRL Miss Diana Leverick of New York, who arrived in Boston yesterday from England on the Cunard liner Franconia , told how she became acquainted with a German “woman” while on board a Mediterranean boat bound for London who proved to be a German male spy in disguise and who later was shot. “Among the passengers was a refined, middle-aged German woman who gave the name of Niederhaus,” she said. “She bore every evidence of good breeding and made herself very agreeable to all of us. I became very much attached to her. She was so pleasant and affable that certain peculiarities of her gait and face were unnoticed. Her hands and feet seemed a trifle large, but I liked her so well that I could see nothing strange about her, although some of the other passengers began to comment upon her. “On the morning of our arrival in London a messenger boy came aboard crying out, ‘Telegram for Mrs. Niederhaus.’ The woman did not answer. Finally came an official and a squad of soldiers and she was led away to her cabin. We were amazed when soldiers locked themselves in with her until we learned that she was really a male spy. I read about her in the London Times next day, the paper describing how ‘she’ was shot by the soldiers.” A CITY OF DARKNESS Stringent measures have been taken in Antwerp to insure perfect darkness. No light of any kind which can be seen from the outside is allowed in the houses. Blinds and curtains, both in front and at back, are closely drawn. Printing offices have to work by candle light. Pitch darkness reigns in the streets at night and those forced to be out stumble against one another as they grope their way along. To prevent a prohibitive rise in the cost of food all shopkeepers have been ordered to display a list of prices charged in such a position that all who pass can see it from the outside. Communication with Malines has been restored and all the fugitives from that town have been ordered to return. “I LOSE FEW BULLETS!” As an evidence of the indomitable spirit which is actuating the Belgians in their war against the Germans, here is a letter from a daring young man with a young wife and child who formerly was notorious as a poacher on game preserves. It was written in the siege of Namur while he was resting a moment: “A few weeks ago,” the letter says in part, “I was in France working in the beet fields. But because the proud Prussians attacked our country I had to leave and could not bring home a few gold coins for my family. I am feeling as well as possible, am whole and sound, and hope, with God’s help, to see my home once more. “The Prussians are poor shots. They don’t know by a yard where they shoot, and when they see a bayonet they are so scared they just run. I have lost but very few bullets. When I aim for their noses, you can bet that they don’t hear the bullets whiz by their ears. They get it right in the mouth. I never missed a bird on the wing, so how could I miss those square-head Uhlans? I settled more than fifty of them, and if God lets me live I’ll cool off a few more. When they come we kill ’em like rats, meanwhile singing ‘The Lion of Flanders.’ “Reverend Dear Father, while we send the Uhlans to the other country, please take care of my family and see that they may not suffer from hunger. Now I finish my letter to grab my gun and shoot Uhlans. X. “Formerly poacher, now Uhlan killer.” AIRMAN’S THRILLING TRIP The following letter from a German military aviator to his parents is printed in a recent issue of the Brandenburger Zeitung : “Last Saturday night, while our company still lay in garrison, I received orders to start on a flight into the enemy’s country at daybreak the following morning. The assignment was as follows: From the garrison over a French fortress into France, thence westward to Maas to spy out land for French lines of communication and to fly back the entire distance of 300 kilometers (about 186 miles). “By way of preparation maps of the whole region were minutely studied till midnight. Next morning at cock-crow our Gotha-Taube rolled across the city square, then rose and headed westerly. In half an hour we had reached an altitude of 1,200 meters (3,937 feet) above the town. Then we headed for the French border, and immediately my observer, First Lieut. A., called my attention to little black puffs of smoke, and I knew at once we were being fired at by hostile artillery, so climbed to 2,000 meters (7,874 feet). “Next we noticed that three of the enemy’s aeroplanes were pursuing us, but we soon outdistanced and lost sight of them. Later we heard that two of the enemy’s aeroplanes had been brought down by our artillery. Both hands of one of the pilots were said to have been blown away by a shot. “With a threefold ‘Hurrah!’ we now flew over the border toward a battlefield of the war of 1870-71, which we reached without any further untoward incidents. Here we noticed long columns of troops marching from the south toward the northeast. We circled around the place and then started toward Maas. “We were now continuously fired upon. I saw, among other things, how a battalion of infantry stopped in the street and aimed at us. Silently and quietly we sat in our Taube and wondered what would happen next. Suddenly I noticed a faint quivering throughout the whole aeroplane; that was all. As I saw later, one of the planes had four holes made by rifle bullets, but without changing our course on we flew.” THREW SHELLS OVERBOARD The London Daily Telegraph’s Harwich correspondent gives further narratives of the Heligoland fight gleaned from British sailors. They say that many of the German shells which made hits did not burst, and to that fact they attribute the comparative lightness of the British casualty list. “There were five shells in the boiler of the ——,” said one of them, mentioning the name of a destroyer. “If one of them had burst—well it would have been all up with the ship.” “What did you do with them?” he was asked. “Oh, we just shied them overboard. We’ve no room for such rubbish aboard our yacht.” In another instance it is related that a shell fell on the deck of a British ship. There was no immediate explosion. The sailors rushed at it and pushed it into the sea. One incident has been described which shows the grit of the German sailors. “We were hard at it with a German cruiser,” he said, “and she was in a bad way, on the point of sinking. We could see her decks were in an awful mess and her stern was in flames. It had been shot away. We could see only one man on the forecastle, but he was a plucky one. He hoisted a flag, and it was still there when the ship went down. I suppose he went down with her.” DIED CHEERING EMPEROR An eye witness of the loss of the German cruiser Ariadne and the German torpedo boat destroyer V-157 in the fighting between British and German warships off Heligoland, relates the following story of the fight: “The destroyer was surprised in a fog by a large number of British destroyers and submarines. When the speed of the German destroyer became affected by the English shells, it turned and confronted the enemy with the intention of fighting to the end. Her engines, however, soon completely failed her, and she was blown up to prevent capture. Her crew continued firing until the boat disappeared beneath the waves. “The Ariadne attacked gamely, but a shell plumped her boilers, putting half of them out of commission. Despite this the fight continued. The quarterdeck of the Ariadne took fire, but those of her guns that were still capable of being worked continued shooting. “The forecastle of the Ariadne was soon ablaze. Her magazine was flooded, but the gallant vessel was doomed. Her crew was mustered and gave three cheers for the Emperor and sang the hymn, ‘The Flag and Germany Above All.’ “The sinking of the ship probably was due to the explosion of her magazine.” SAVED; THEN THROWN INTO THE SEA This little grim comedy is told by a correspondent of the London Evening News : “I heard of an incident which is said to have occurred when the British boats were busy picking up German survivors of the fight in the Bight of Heligoland. A German officer was seen swimming, a line was thrown to him and he was helped on board, but his first action was to spit in the face of the British officer in charge. “A British sailor immediately flung the German overboard and another drowning German among the many within the boat’s reach was helped into the vacant place.” “FRENCH ARE VERY KIND” The American Embassy in Paris is in daily receipt of letters written by dying German soldiers, forwarded to it by the French Government for transmission to Germany. One is from a German aviator who had fallen into the hands of the French. This man wrote: “Good-by, dear father and mother; my leg has been crushed. The French officers are very kind.” A postscript to this letter added by a French officer read: “At this point the brave fellow died; please forward this to his parents.” “I AM FIGHTING AGAINST MY SON!” A story is told to-day of the bravery of French women and men which is vouched for as true. Gen. de Castelnau and his three sons went to the front at the outbreak of the war and Mme. de Castelnau retired to the south. One of the sons was killed in the early fighting. When the news of his son’s death was conveyed to Gen. de Castelnau, he read the statement and then said quietly: “Gentlemen, let us continue.” When the news reached the country house of the family in the south the parish priest undertook the delicate task of conveying the news of the death of her son to Mme. de Castelnau. The priest tried to break the news to her but was so overcome with emotion that she guessed something serious had happened. Mme. de Castelnau simply asked, “Which one?” meaning whether it was her husband or one of her three sons who had been killed. When the 35th Regiment entered Muelhausen an aged Alsatian offered the soldiers everything he possessed, pressing them to accept wine and food. After they had finished their meal he bade them farewell, saying: “I am now going to fight to kill my son, who is in the 40th Regiment of German infantry.” WHO WAS THE WOMAN? A correspondent tells of a strange little war picture. He got mixed with a French regiment on the right. In returning to his own regiment he says he crossed a field and passed up a big avenue of trees. Halfway up the avenue was a German officer of lancers lying dead at the side of the road. “How he got there was a mystery,” the soldier said. “We had seen no cavalry, but there he lay. Some one had crossed his hands over his breast and had put a little celluloid crucifix in them. Over his face lay a beautiful little handkerchief—a lady’s handkerchief with lace edging. The handkerchief, too, was a bit of a mystery, for there wasn’t a woman within miles of the place.” “WE DON’T WANT YOUR KAISER!” “Go back to your Pomeranian grenadiers,” writes Henri Berenger, the Frenchman, to the German aviator who flew over Paris yesterday. “Mimi Pinson is not for you. We don’t want your Kaiser, nor your Kultur, nor your Kolossal, nor your capital. You are not even original. Wretched Prussian cuckoo, where did you get your wings? Who invented aviation, Germany or France? Who first crossed the Channel or the Alps, a German or a Frenchman? What did you bring under your wings that we should surrender to you intelligence, or liberty, or justice, or truth, or love? Nothing of the kind. You brought death—a bomb—that is all. That is why you will never have Paris. Paris is civilization in its beauty. You are barbarism in your ugliness. Possibly you may bombard us and burn our city, but we shall never surrender. Paris will be wherever the French flag floats, and in the end chantecler will crow over the bloody nests of your crushed tyrants.” KING HONORS BOY SCOUT HERO Georges Terpen, an 18-year-old Boy Scout of Liége, has just been decorated by the King of the Belgians and has received a commission in the army for the brilliant work which he has accomplished since the beginning of hostilities. Young Terpen captured eleven spies, all of whom have been shot. Near Malines he killed one Uhlan and captured another, although he was suffering from a broken arm. Two fellow Boy Scouts, 16 and 17 years old, were executed by the Germans on the same day. Terpen declares that the only weapon he used against the German soldiers was a long knife. THOUGHT FOES WERE FRIENDS A corporal in a convoy of wounded at Champigny is quoted as saying that in the fighting at Guise a regiment firing on the line heard the signal to cease shooting. Immediately in front of them the men of the regiment saw soldiers wearing caps like the English. They advanced, cheering the English, and were met by a deadly discharge of rifle fire. The Germans, he asserted, had used this subterfuge to draw the French on. “COURAGE; DELIVERANCE SOON!” The correspondent in Antwerp of an Amsterdam newspaper says that a French biplane appeared over Brussels Saturday and in a hail of German bullets twice circled the town, dropping hundreds of pamphlets containing the message: “Take courage; deliverance soon.” The aviator then made off, after giving the spectators a daring performance of loop the loop. GERMANS TRICKED TO DEATH Wounded men in the hospitals of Boulogne related to the London Express correspondent these incidents of the fighting between the British and Germans. One of the men, he says, told of a trick which the British learned in the Boer war which was carried out with deadly effect against the Germans. The story of the incident follows: “The enemy before sending their infantry against our positions opened a hot artillery fire. Our artillery replied at first warmly, and then gun after gun of the British batteries went silent. “What’s up now?” I asked a comrade. There were a few minutes more of artillery firing from the Germans, and then their infantry came on in solid formation. We received them with rifle fire. Still they came on and still we mowed them down. They were getting closer and we could plainly see the dense masses moving. Then suddenly the whole of our artillery opened fire. “You see, the cannon had not been silenced at all, and it was a trick to draw the Germans on. They went down in whole fields, for our guns got them in open ground and, of course, they soon had enough. It was impossible for those behind to come on past the dead.” SIGNAL DREW FATAL VOLLEY The Hanover Courier prints this account by an eyewitness of the death of Prince Wilhelm of Lippe, who fell in the assault on Liége on Aug. 6: “After fierce fighting at close quarters we proceeded successfully toward Liége. On the morning of the 6th we succeeded in getting on the northern walls of Liége, where, however, we were completely surrounded by Belgian troops, who drew ever closer around us and pressed us hard amid a hail of bullets. By order of his Highness our detachment formed a circle and we defended ourselves stoutly for some time, till at length we saw strong reinforcements coming to our aid. “In order to enable them to locate the exact spot where we were the Prince rose to a kneeling position, pointed with his sword to the approaching column and gave me, who lay a hand’s breadth away from him, on top of our flag, the order to raise the flag so that we might be recognized. “I raised the flag and waved it in a circle, which at once drew an extra hail of bullets from the enemy. The flag was shot out of my hands, while the same volley wounded the Prince fatally in the breast and throat. His last words were, ‘Remember me!’ ” AMERICAN WOMEN’S ADVENTURE Arriving home from France Mrs. Webster J. Scofield of Holmes told of riding 120 miles imprisoned in a freight car, from Chatillon to Paris, when the railroads suspended passenger service to move troops. When she reached Chatillon, homeward bound, with two friends from Jacksonville, Fla., there were no trains to take civilians to Paris. They were told by a trainman that a freight car that stood on a side track filled with gun carriages was going to Paris, and that if they hid in it they could get through. Mrs. Scofield, with three other women and two men, took the trainman’s advice. They had hidden five hours in the darkness when a brakeman locked the door and they were practically prisoners for six hours more, until a soldier heard their cries in the Paris freight yards and let them out. BOMBARDMENT OF—KISSES! When the British expeditionary army landed on French soil the natives went wild with joy and women overwhelmed “Tommy Atkins” with kisses. A letter received at London to-day by the wife of one of the soldiers at the front declares: “You would have been jealous if you had seen the women, old and young, kiss us. I was kissed scores of times. The natives went frantic with joy when they saw us. The women screamed with joy as they hugged us. Many wept bitterly and then wiped away the tears and offered us small presents.” GERMAN ARMY WONDERFUL An eye witness to the entry of the victorious Germans into Brussels describes the advance as a wonderful sight. He writes as follows: “The German entry into Brussels was a wonderful and impressive sight. I have seen many military parades in time of peace, but never a parade on so vast a scale, which went on without a hitch. It was impossible to imagine that these men had been fighting continuously for ten days, or that they had even been on active service. First of all came six cyclists, then a detachment of cavalry, then a great mass of infantry, then guns and field guns and more infantry, then huge howitzers, then a pontoon train and then more infantry from 1.30 o’clock Thursday until Sunday morning without a break. “The pontoon trains were especially impressive. They were carried upside down on trolleys, drawn by six horses. All cavalry horses as well as the horses of the artillery and commissary were in wonderful condition. The men also were very fresh and keen. Each company had a stove, the fire of which was never out. There was always some hot drink ready for the troops and the German soldiers told me that it is only this hot coffee and soup which kept them going on long forward marches. “The inhabitants of Brussels turned out by thousands to watch this endless procession of Germans as they marched by singing all sorts of songs and national airs. They sang in excellent tune, one company taking up the refrain as soon as another stopped. Like everything else their singing is perfectly organized. “An aeroplane kept its station ahead of this advancing horde and it signalled both day and night by dropping various colored stars. What these signals meant I do not know, but all movements of the troops were regulated by them. “I became overwhelmed after watching this immense mass of men marching by without a hitch for three days. I never believed such a perfect machine could exist.” HE WASN’T HER HUSBAND Mme. Gilbert, wife of the French aviator, was recently arrested near Clermont-Ferrand at the village of Paray-le-Monial, where she was informed her husband was being fêted on his return from a successful raid. On her arrival she found her alleged husband an impostor—a warrant has been issued for his arrest, since the real Gilbert is at Dole—and she was challenged by a gendarme when trying to return home. Finding her without papers and carrying German uniform buttons, which she bought from prisoners as souvenirs, he promptly arrested her. Release was obtained with difficulty on the arrival of her father-in-law with the necessary information. COOL NERVE OF BELGIANS Stories of the cool nerve of Belgian soldiers under fire are being told everywhere by refugees and correspondents arriving from the battlefield in lower Belgium. The story is told of one volunteer who returned after a skirmish with Uhlans and calmly announced: “Well, I killed two.” Then as he filled his pipe, he added: “I hit one right there,” putting his finger to his forehead. “His helmet went spinning and I picked it up later and saw the hole my bullet made.” Clerks, brokers, and business men have been turned into fighting devils. The Belgians were not out of their uniforms for days at a time. Sleeping and eating in the trenches when they could, they became veritable vagabonds. Even when catching a few winks of sleep the men lay with their rifles on their arms ready for action.

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