“Our column was halted in Château-Thierry for ’bout three hours. We had to wait for some trucks to encore the drive with. Poor old chevaux were down for the count.
“I had already lost beaucoup stuff. Thought I’d hunt ’round some of the near-by houses, or what was left of houses. Needed some underclothes pretty bad. In one place I found a closet full of mademoiselle’s underclothes. You know that kind of stuff all full of holes and ribbons. I was up against it for underwear. As it was, I didn’t have on any drawers. I grabbed two suits and gave two to George Neil. Damn stuff nearly choked me to death after I got it on. The girl who wore it was smaller than me in a good many places. Four days after I got the stuff Neil and I hit a little stream and thought we’d try to take a bath. Funny as a crutch, the way we looked gettin’ out o’ the mademoiselle’s riggin’s. Neil got one arm caught in some lace and got a cramp before he could get loose again.
“Just before daybreak we got orders to move ahead. Most of the hikin’ was right down alongside the Marne—river looked like a big red, open sewer. Never hope to see so much filthy water in my life again. Bodies, wreckage of all kinds, clothes, empty ammunition cases. A hundred things else, I guess. All floatin’ down the stream. The tide washed lots of bodies to shore. Most of them you couldn’t recognize, as the water and fishes had eaten their faces and hands off. Only way we could tell what army they belonged to was by parts of equipment and uniforms. Water had faded most of the uniforms, though.
“The woods and river sent up an awful smell. When we came to a windin’ road that looked like a brown snake crawlin’ up a hill the column turned up it and pretty soon we was in position with the old pieces boomin’ away at the flyin’ Boches.
“Boche prisoners was pourin’ in like smoke pours out of a factory smoke-stack. Some of ’em tried to be friendly. There was damn few smiles they got from us, I can tell you. We were darn tired of their ways of yellin’ ‘Kamerad!’ and then throwin’ them hand grenades at a man.
“The boys was all full o’ fun at that. Most of ’em had got hold of high hats, derbies, colored parasols, and a lot of other fool things in Château-Thierry, and the next mornin’ they was drivin’ along wearin’ silk hats, carryin’ green umbrellas and Lord knows what else. I had a high hat on myself. The Frenchmen thought we was nuts sure enough, goin’ to war rigged up like that. But we told ’em ‘Say la guerre.’ O. D., the guys in this man’s army ain’t lettin’ no guerre get their nannies. I guess most of ’em was brought up just to get in this guerre and wallop the Heinies.
“’Bout twelve bells we started firin’. Just in time to let dinner get cold. Hadn’t put over eight rounds before the old coal barges—that’s the big shells that Fritz throws at us—began sailin’ right in. Third shell struck a shallow dug-out ’bout twenty feet from where our piece was. There was four boys tryin’ to cushay in that dug-out. They was all in a row, accordin’ to the way I heard it. First one nearest us got smashed up ’round the lungs. Olsmo, second lad, got killed outright. He was mashed to pulp in places. Ripped the stomach out of Papan, next to him, and tore Pap’s knees clean out of socket. The fourth guy, Thayer, sleepin’ jam up to Pap, didn’t get a scratch—not a thing. Course he got all bloody from the others. But that wasn’t nothin’.
“When we dug ’em out we found Silvia, the first lad, dyin’. He fineed toot sweet. Just a gasp or so ended him. Olsmo, of course, was stone cold—gashed into tit-bits from head to foot. O. D., he was twisted inside out and then all ground up like hash. Them shells can sure ruin a man. Poor Pap, he got it worse than all. ’Cause it didn’t kill him. His legs dangled from threads of flesh. You couldn’t see his face on account of the blood that spurted from his chest—covered his face with red. Pap was in some agony, boy, but he had guts. Looked like his pain gave him strength. But guess it was the madness that made him act strong and not the hurtin’. He went insane for a few minutes—then he would quiet down.
“‘Olsmo,’ he shouted, grittin’ his teeth so till it gave me cold shivers. Then he shook cold Olsmo with his blood-drippin’ hand. ‘Snap into it,’ yelled Pap. ‘Christ Almighty, man, we can’t stay here. It’s killin’ me. Move! Get that horse out of my way. Cannoneers on the wheels.’ He raved until he got so weak he just couldn’t whisper. The way Pap stared at us out of them sunken eyes of his was enough to scare a man to death. But when your pals are dyin’, sufferin’, cussin’, prayin’, beggin’ for water and cigarettes, a man ain’t got no business to be scared, O. D. That’s what kept lots of us goin’, I suppose. Pap wanted cigarettes. Had to smoke, he said. Course we gave ’em to him. But as fast as he got one in his mouth he’d throw it away and holler for another.
“The shellin’ was goin’ on merrily durin’ all that time. Our piece was out of action, of course, till we got Pap in the ambulance. Heard later that he didn’t pass out for ten hours. Docs claim he was the grittiest man they’d seen in some time. Wasn’t time to bury the other lads then. We wrapped ’em in shelter-halves, dug holes and put ’em all in the same grave that night before we pulled to another place.