Best Stories of the 1914 European War

“ ‘I don’t know what has come over the German riflemen,’ an officer said to me to-day, ‘but our men have become almost totally indifferent to the German rifle fire. While it is going on they do their work singing, whistling and joking in the trenches.’

“An army doctor who heard this statement was able to confirm it in a remarkable way. Of 500 wounded who had come under his notice, or whom he had treated, only one was suffering from a rifle bullet wound. All the others had been hit by shrapnel bullets or bits of shells.

“I met to-day a gunner who is in charge of a Maxim gun, and who at one time found himself right in the center and facing an oncoming German frontal attack.

“ ‘But how we did mow them down,’ he said. ‘The section in front of me must have consisted of 800 men, and every one of them got something. We cleared the whole lot out, but from the flanks others closed up, and at last we had to run for it. We were forced to leave the gun behind, but, luckily, a well-planted German shell knocked it to bits before the Germans reached it.’ ”

“AIM AT BUTTON, HIT GERMAN”

Some striking stories told by wounded soldiers returning from France are given by the London Standard, among them the following:

“The blue-gray uniforms of the Germans are hard to see at a distance,” said a Yorkshire light infantryman, “and for concealing movements are more effective than our khaki, but it is surprising how quickly you learn to pick out such things as buttons, badges, armlets, and even peaks of caps or spikes of helmets in the sun and tell by them of the moving men you cannot see otherwise.

“Aim at a button a mile off and you hit a German in the stomach, is what we say, and it’s near enough to the truth. The Germans are such sticklers for rules that I have seen their artillery keep firing away at a position of ours after it had been occupied by their own men, and at the hospitals they find quite a number of Germans hit by their own rifle fire.”

WHAT HAPPENED? GOD KNOWS!

The London Daily News prints a despatch from a staff correspondent describing the recent fighting around St. Quentin. The despatch written at St. Quentin and forwarded to London via Boulogne, reads:

“A battle is raging, with heavy fighting. It began here Saturday, was continued yesterday, and was recommenced at dawn this morning. In a dense wood between St. Quentin and La Fere a number of people had taken refuge, peaceful peasantry for the most part. The wood was raided by a band of German cavalry and, although the white flag was hoisted on the outskirts, not the slightest notice was taken of it. The undergrowth was as dry as tinder. The way to clear the screen was obvious, and the order was given to fire it. This was done and in a few moments the wood was a huge, raging fury of flames, roaring madly.

“A priest engaged in Red Cross work who had struggled through from this desperate neighborhood told me this tale in the gray hours of this morning.

“ ‘What happened to the people there?’ I asked.

“ ‘What happened? The good God alone knows,’ he replied as tears rolled down his face.”

THOUGHT SCOTS AMAZONS

A never-ending source of wonder and delight to the French country folk are the kilted Highland regiments with the British expeditionary force. The Highlander in full gala rig, scarlet tunic, tartan phillibeg, with the gay “sporan” or pouch, white gaiters and big bearskin headdress, is a thing of beauty and joy forever at home, and even now when clad in khaki he is a remarkable sight for foreigners.

The French could hardly believe their eyes when they saw the husky regiments wearing what appeared to be short petticoats. True, the garment of khaki was like the jacket, but it was undoubtedly a petticoat. The inhabitants of the country through which they are passing generally put them down as some wild troop of Amazons which the English keep for serious fighting. When told that the kilted warriors are really men, and Scotchmen, they remember the famous Scotch guards of the old French kings and shout “Vivent les écossais!”

The bagpipes are another attraction and when the Gordons are stepping out to “The Cock of the North,” or the Argyle and Sutherlands are announcing their presence with “The Campbells Are Comin’,” whole villages follow them for miles. There are four Highland regiments with the British army, the two above mentioned, and the Black Watch and Camerons.

MOTHER’S TRIBUTE TO SON

When Lieut. St. Aubyn, killed in the Heligoland naval battle, was buried the other day in London, his mother sent a wreath bearing the inscription:

“To my darling boy. I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”

The following authentic incident of the Heligoland fight is perhaps the most dramatic of the war. A British destroyer, having sunk an enemy, lowered a lifeboat to pick up German survivors. Before the lifeboat returned a German cruiser came out and attacked her, forcing her to abandon the lifeboat.

The British crew was left alone in an open boat without food twenty-five miles from the nearest land, and that land the enemy’s fortress, with nothing but fog and foes surrounding. Suddenly up popped a British submarine close by, opened the conning tower and took the British on board, leaving the German survivors alone in the lifeboat.

SAYS PRINCE TOOK HIS OWN LIFE

Prince Frederick William of Lippe took his own life following a mistake of his regiment, according to Lady Randolph Churchill, formerly Miss Jennie Jerome of New York, who has arrived in London from Germany by way of Holland.

“The true story of the death of Prince Frederick William of Lippe,” she said, “is that he committed suicide. He was commanding a German cavalry regiment before Liége on August 4 when his regiment, in the darkness of evening, nearly annihilated a German infantry regiment which it had mistaken for Belgians. The Prince shot himself, fearing to face the anger of Emperor William. His widow, with whom I am acquainted, was informed of his death on Aug. 14.”

“GET THE GUNS BACK!”

“A gallant deed was performed by Capt. F. O. Grenfell of the 9th Lancers,” cables a correspondent of the London Daily Mail. “He was hit in both legs and had two fingers shot off at the same time. Almost as he received these wounds a couple of guns posted near by were deprived of their servers, all of whom save one were struck by the bursting of shrapnel. The horses for the guns had been placed under cover.

“ ‘We’ll get the guns back!’ cried Grenfell, and at that, with several of his men, in spite of his wounds, he did manage to harness the guns up and get them away. He was then taken to a hospital.”

THE IRREPRESSIBLE CAMERA MAN

A correspondent sends the following by way of Antwerp:

“Yesterday morning a little man wearing an American army shirt, a pair of British officer’s breeches, French puttees and a Seaforth Highlander’s helmet, and carrying a camera the size of a parlor phonograph, blew into the American Consulate in Ostend while I was paying a flying visit there. He announced that his name was Donald C. Thompson, a photographer from Topeka, Kan. Thompson made nine attempts to get from Paris to the front. He was arrested nine times and spent nine nights in prison. Each time he was taken before a military tribunal. Utterly ignoring the subordinate officers, he would demand to see the commanding officer. He would grasp that astonished official by the hand and nearly wring it off, meanwhile inquiring solicitously after the General’s health and that of his family.

“ ‘How many languages do you speak?’ I asked.

“ ‘Three,’ said he – ‘English, American, and Yankee.’

“On one occasion he explained to the French officer who had arrested him that he was in search of his wife and daughter, who were dying somewhere on the Belgian frontier. The officer was so affected by the pathos of the story that he wept on Thompson’s neck and sent him forward in a Red Cross automobile.”

SAW FIFTY ZEPPELINS

William Parker of St. Louis, who arrived in London from Rumania last night, told of interesting things he had witnessed and passed through on his journey. He said:

“When we got to Breslau the mining of the town’s approaches was in operation and I had a good look at it. They were digging trenches about three miles outside of Breslau and burying horrible looking bombs eleven inches in diameter, row after row, as far as I could see. They seemed to fear a Russian attack.

“I was allowed the privilege of looking over their Zeppelins at Breslau, for use against the Russians.

“There seemed to be fifty of them, in tents with doors wide open. Operators, officers, men and equipment were all aboard, ready to start at a moment’s notice. They have sure got a system. I also saw some forty aeroplanes there.

“From Breslau we had a slow but not uncomfortable trip to Berlin. German officers who spoke enough ‘American’ to make themselves understood saw to it that we got coffee and food at stations along the way.

“You must know that ‘American’ is now officially recognized as a language. Signs up everywhere say ‘American spoken here.’ The bill of fare no longer reads ‘English roast beef,’ but ‘Amerikanischer roast beef.’ So all along the line. It’s all American now, not English.”

JEWS BRAVE FIGHTERS

A corporal and two privates of the Black Watch, all wounded, have just arrived in London from the front. They were surrounded by a crowd and cheered in the West End this morning. The corporal, telling how his regiment fought, said:

“In the thick of it we were singing Harry Lauder’s latest. Aye, ’twas grand. All around us were the dead and dying. Every now and then the German shells burst and as we peppered away at ’em we sang ‘Roamin’ in the Gloamin’’ and the ‘Lass o’ Killikrankie.’ ”

Somebody in the crowd asked: “What were the Jews doing?”

The Highlander replied:

“Their duty. We had three with us, and bonnier and braver lads I don’t wish to see. They fought just splendidly.”

A private in the Berkshire regiment added:

“We had ten in our company. They were all good fighters, but six won’t be seen again.”