The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, December 15, 1928, Page 12

ay JOSEPH FAUS in a cotton field and went to France to fight for democracy, $32 a month, the fun of it and some glory if possible. For, he felt, he was a born soldier, the blood of gallant crusaders in his veins. Side by side with Stone- wall Jackson his grand-dad had fought and bled; at Teddy's heels his dad had thun- dered up San Juan Hill; he, Timothy Botts, would emu- late his honorable forebears, well, wisely and more than willingly. To him, corn willie and hard- tack were _ nectar of the gods; he caressed his rifle as a mother caresses her child aye ue a renade wit! " hehe ardor than a boy does a ball. Timothy Botts yearned for conflict, bloody, soul-stirring conflict. \ ‘At St. Nazaire, with thousands of khaki-clad comrades, he marched through the streets, lined with cheering French people, and entrained on Forty-and-Eights for Paris. He waved his hand in the general direction of Germany, turned to his companion in ranks and grinned: “They better remember what the dentist said—“The Yanks are comin’! And I'm one of ‘em. Hurray!” Once in Paris he was thrilled to the high- est tension, awaiting commands to depart for the front. One day on the street he saw a noble statue of a man on a horse, which he took to be of Lafayette, and he went up to it, saluted reverently and said: “Lafayette, I am here!” : A passing Tommy sniggered and said: “Yuh blooming nut, that’s a hadvertise- ment for a riding hacademy!” Even that didn’t dampen his ardor— but it was thoroughly quenched the next day when he heard he was to be transferred to an intelligence division as an orderly, des- tined to remain in Paris while his former buddies marched on to action and glory. Bitterly disappointed and apathetic, he fought the dismal battle of Paris; quelled the advances of romantic ma'mselles, charged rudely through sidewalk throngs on his dull errands, shot words of rebellion from his mouth, retreated to the privacy of his billet, there to brood on the rotten deal fate had handed him. UT his heart sang in relief and triumph when at last he received notice to re- port for immediate duty to an officer of a company of artillery. A day later Timothy Botts—again tight-lipped and morose—sat atop a load of ammunition, driving two lean black mules toward the distant smoky horizon. From errand boy to mule driver! In co-mingled envy, anger and humiliation he dully watched the thousands of doughboys who passed him in great trucks bound for the front lines. He named one of his mules Positively and the other Absolutely, because when the first positively wanted to trot or walk the other absolutely didn’t. Timothy Botts glumly allowed they co-operated like sweet milk and lemon juice, and he spent a busy morning enlarging his vocabulary. The sun went higher and his spirits lower. He thought of his swash-buckling dad and grand-dad and of his own ignominious po- sition, and then eloquently repeated new phrases he had pis That afternoon he glanced phlegmatical- ly up from Absolutely’s rump, considerably disfigured by a hickory stick, to note that their wagon train was passing through a village, and that nearby a pretty young girl st intently observing the long dusty caravan. The girl wore short skirts and Timothy Botts appreciatively realized that all frog's legs aren't frog’s legs. , that her eyes ere blue and warm like the Georgia sun in June, her cheeks like apples in Novem- ber and her hair like corn tassels in July. Timorously, she spoke to Timothy as his opposite. “Parlez vous?” she said. “T ain't that kind of a guy,” responded Tim- othy Botts, pleased that at last some person had addressed him respectfully; and after some coax- ing he managed to make Absolutely and Posi- tively cease locomotion at the same time. ¢ we BOTTS, tall, clean-cut and healthy, left his mule and_plow Timothy. . . one of them said. IE. girl looked bewildered and countered with another question, eager and positive; and at this moment wagon behind Tim- othy’s lumbered up and to a pause. “‘She wants to your name,” gri t driver. “Tell her, buddy,” begged Timothy Botts. _ The ae: chap Lclabe Bente ak tbe aaah French with ae Pee ay ou “She said Timothy is a queer name,” he pro- rag he Smet ie teas ty. te t you were 5 seed. i pee a hae neler dat te Shake her hand.” took the girl’s slende “Pleased to. mectcha, bersyced tejoined in ‘—an meaning, “You Americans are so brave and ioe: The doughboys crowded around .. “He's hit bad,” derful!” but which the second dsiver said was only a query as to why he didn’t wash his face some time. ‘i “I don’t know if you are kidding or not,” sourly remarked Timothy Botts to him, “but if you are I hope your son turns out to be a saxo- phone player.” They climbed aboard their wag- ons regretfully, the girl waving for- lorn adieu, and for the next hour the two argued heated- ly as to which of them her adieus were sent. Soon the ammu- nition train was close to the Ar- gonne forest. The reverberations of big guns sounded increasingly _loud about them. Great shells whined overhead, and the western sky was dark blue _ with smoke, seared frequently with pale streaks of fire. The very earth shook with detonations of the big guns. Dusk came down, a few stars timidly peeped forth. The caravan with its dan- gerous load crawled closer and closer to the front-line inferno. Absolutely and Positively began to behave more inharmoniously than ever, and in the gloom, Tim- othy, thinking some part of the 4 harness might be broken, stiffly dismounted to in- vestigate. He was in rear of Absolutely when suddenly the night grew darker, the stars turned from white to red, and a long sleep claimed him. ‘When he awoke two men—medical officers —with flashlights were stooping over him. “Shell shock,” diagnosed the elder one, “I've sent dozens back with it to the infirmary today. Looks like the ear of this poor boy may be busted.” “It's terrible,” agreed the younger medico, cautiously examining the fallen one’s head. “Say,” he exclaimed suddenly, “there's a sort of imprint here. Looks like a—a, say, a horse- oe. “Shell shock,” firmly said the other. “Have him carried to the rear.” IMOTHY BOTTS was too dazed to say anything, and on the way back he fell asleep 2 ine fo moles finally the following morn- ing to hear a feminine ‘ing ii r- lieved and tender poe Oh. ny Beowha ie jh. Correct It was rie, sure enough. he pg gy cn ngs to a . t i to Woe the wick and cheer the wounded Hest Bats rolled over to get a better look at her. lore strongly than ever her eyes re- eee TTT ua emer ne TTT eUNEUOALIUNETTAE TCA ANT TTA ay/it With Mule Sho, Illustrations By PAUL KROESEN minded him of a Georgia sky in June, her cheeks of item in November, her hair of corn tassels in July, and her skirts of his bank account in May after his spring planting bills were paid. _ Marie started to say sqmething else, but he interrupted her, pleading: “Not another word, please. [ ain't takin’ no chances. Bring me some water first, to wash my face with.” This request the doughboy patient on Tim- othy’s left translated to the pretty nurse, who de- parted cheerfully for the wherewithal to cleanse an already clean countenance. “Shell shock?” tersely asked the translator of Timothy. “Absolutely,” replied the new patient absent- ly, referring to the guilty mule. “What's that?” queried the ill Yank on Tim- othy’s right. “I’m a bit deaf. You say shell sl ock ?”” “Or Positively,” amended Timothy. “Him or Absolutely, I disremembers which.” “Don’t you worry,” soothed the fellow. “They all talk that way at first. You'll get good sense soon. The most recent victim of shell shock was the recipient of care and solicitude of all the nurses; but particularly did Marie attend to his needs, wisely, adoringly and patiently on those days they let her in the hospital, To her he was eotNMUVTUUUUTAUULN NANCE AAALAC Papa and Mama began to gesticulate. Marie bit her soft red lips, and then silently led him from the room and the Lely She took him back to the hos- pital. After that Marie appeared to be disappointed, _ bitterly i jint- ed, about something; she dr3opes like a wilted lily, and she began to avoid Timothy Botts. This hurt him, somehow. He meditated long, and finally came to the conclusion he'd just as soon lose several hundred dollars, what the house would probably cost, than he would her friendship. Perforce, the next day he motioned her to him, waved his hand expressively toward the house they had inspected, and shook his head in smiling affirmative. Quick joy flooded Marie's lovely face; her arms went up and around his neck, her lips to his. “Geewhilikens!” he thought, embarrassed, but delighted. ‘That's a fine way to close a deal!” ARIE took him at once to Monsieur Papa's office, where Marie did her fastest jabber- ing, and Papa became excited and kissed him on both cheeks, and called in many towns- people. Even the priest came in. It was a funny way to celebrate buying a house. Finally Marie's father asked Timothy a question to which he nodded a cheerful “Sure!” and then Monsieur the Mayor handed over a paper that Timothy and Marie and all the others signed. a “T’ll ask one of the boys at the infirmary,” de- termined Timothy, “to tell Maric I'll have the money sent to her right away from home.” | But when they returned to the hospital it was to find an order there for Timothy Botts to Hod immediately to his company’s headquarters three villages north. He promptly forgot Marie and her money in the wonderful vision now limned before his rapturous eyes—he forgot Absolutely, “Parlez vous2” asked the girl. . . . “I ain't that kind of a guy,” said Timothy Botts, noting that all frog’s legs aren't frog's legs. a great war hero. She sang softly and sweetly to him, affectionately held his hand. “Mushy, these French janes!" opined the chap on Timothy's left. “Don’t take "em serious, buddy! I bet this one, f'rin- stance, is as shrewd as they make ‘em. hear tell she’s a business woman ordinarily —sells houses and land, and all such. They think every American is rich, so mind out—she might try to sell you a Nii castle or so.” “Not me!” bragged Timothy Botts. “T wouldn't give my farm in Georgia for all the castles in this country.” _In several days the presiding medico gave his verdict that patient Botts was able to take strolls occasionally; and on these strolls Marie peccaisaieee f him when she could. Proudly she showed him about the quaint little village, gui im care- fully over its bucolic by-paths. ER parents, fat, jolly old folks, she intro- duced in pantomime to him, and they smiled benignantly on her tall, handsome patient. Several evenings Timothy had supper with them, afterwards collaborating with Monsieur Papa on a long-stemmed and villainous-smelling pipe. Papa was the village mayor. Then on the third day Marie and Monsieur Papa and Madame Mama conduc} puzzled Timothy Botts to a small, attractive house, over the front threshold of which they resolutel: forced his reluctant feet—for, presciently, he felt he was now regarded as a prospective business victim. Brightly, Marie showed him the parlor, over-stuffed with rugs, carpets, uncomfortable chairs and old-fashioned pictures. Naively, she exposed to his polite but bored gaze the huge, high-ceilinged combination kitchen and dining- room. And then, blushing, she another door that gave bold glimpse of a m, fur- nished with several chairs, a bureau and a great, len four-poster bed. ‘ “Not me, old girl,” said Timothy Botts aloud to gain courage. “I ain't in the market. I can't afford to be a summer tourist and so I don’t need * "Ais words te glanced eager ngs t wol 2! rly, inquisitively up into his tanned face. Fle shook his bead a firm and her piquant visage paled. (Copyright, 1928, NEA Magazine) ANCA POM Cn U1ttne Also that her eyes were blue and warm. Positively, the hospital, his new house, everything. He was bound for the front lines! A week later the joyful warrior was in a long file of marchers hastening to the latest battle arena. Now, thought he, nothing could possibly deter him from actual combat. But, when within a few miles of the trench, stray shrapnel flying overhead burst with a loud crash and gpersas o it spread to the earth, one ironically entering Timothy Botts, who promptly slumped with a low moan to the ground. gaat Se A hole was torn in‘his coat, and his shirt and his breeches, near the back. He felt blood ftow- ing out of his middle and over his loins. His eyes feebly closed in repul- sion. The Sopghbors crowd- ed around ‘imothy, and one quickly knelt and placed a hand experi- mentingly ler his blouse, felt of the grue- iquid. _“*Blood,” he pronounced. “‘He’s hit bad.” Timothy Botts dazed- ly oper his eyes, and courageously said: “f guess I'm a goner.” Tt was at this moment that some of the blood oozed out of Timothy's shirt front and they all saw it wasn't blood but water. At their ejacula- tions and chuckles, Tim- othy scrambled, white- faced and humiliated, to his feet; his canteen was vesthrred, found to be empty and with a remnant of shrapnel shell dancing in it. ~ A young medico came hustling up. Sick fear and Timothy recognized hi the same one who had asserted his horse-shoe imprint. ““What's this?” that indi. vidual cried. ‘“‘Another casual so far back from the lines “No, sir,” chimed up one of the boys, “I just one of our ey Rs, but one canteen to give for his country.” “We'd better ine hi NC a eal LONANMAAMNNLLNNAGA00N0044 1400000400000 00 0NNCNUCUNENEN DE NAADELONCGNE 0000000089 GBD aseetaseen ter to his room... « “Deg Mons. Hayseed Botts,” i examine him, anyway,” decreed Behind the Lines Was Gay Romance, But the P oint Of This Story Was Found in Wha Was Written Between the Lines the puzzled doctor, while the others grinned. “Fall out, fellow.” And this Timothy Botts had to do—while his companions marched on into what was to be the great drive on Sedan. The ambitious warrior, it eventuated, missed his last chance. Ensued in a few days the per- manent order to cease firing. Seven million men greeted it with cheers of gratitude and relief, but one, Timothy Botts, would have given his right arm to have been able to march across the Rhine and to sharpshoot it out with the best sniper in Wilhelm’s elite. VENTUALLY Timothy Boots came back to his home in Georgia. He was greeted like a hero; no praise was too perfervid for good old Timothy Botts, who had helped to save democracy and the U. S. A. But every time a person alluded to the late fracas, his face would turn sullen and he would rudely say, “War! Don’t mention that to me! I hate it!” “War is horrible!" they all agreed. “*What Timothy Botts has been through has shattered all his ideals. If everybody knew what Timothy Botts knows, war would be outlawed.” Daytimes the ex-soldier would plow with his mules, thanking his lucky stars they weren't as mean and contrary as Positively and Absolutely ; and night times he weuld lie on his bed and think or dream about a girl with blue eyes and red cheeks and/silken hair. He tried to forget her, but—dadblast!—he couldn't. One morning the postmaster said to him: “Say, Tim, you all know of any Botts livin’ here’bouts savin’ your folks?” “Nope,” answered Timothy. “Why?” “They’s a letter here for a Mr. Hayseed Botts,” replied the p. m., “and I guess I'll have to return. as party unbeknownst. It’s furrin— Africa or Key West, or some place like that.” “It’s for me,” said Timothy Botts quickly, a sudden constriction and a yearning in his heart. “Hayseed, that’s a nickname the mayor of Paris give me, on account of his fondness for my com- pany. That's probably an invite to a royal party he don’t want to throw without me bein’ there.” Timothy took the precious letter to his room, locked the door and read it. It wasn't from Marie, but from a lawyer fellow, and it said: “Dear Mons. Hayseed Botts: I am a friend of the Mademoiselle Marie, who cared for you when you were ill in our hospital here, and this epistle is written in the interests of that young lady, who, at a loss for adequate expression in English, fears you do not understand her position that I explain the same. “She bids me tell you that it takes a super- brave man to ride aboard a wagon load of am- munition close to the battle front, and that a mule kick while in service is just as honorable as shell shock. Also, she is of the opinion the episode of the canteen bullet was heaven-sent and kept you from participating in the Sedan drive, where the probabilities are you would have been killed. “Marie states that your life is very dear to her, = being her husband. Regarding your pro- ene absence from your home here—that you said, after second consideration, you were will- ingly to accept as her marriage dowry—she is grief-stricken. Your marriage, I add, was fully legal: before a priest you gave your oral consent and also signed the certificate. “In her sleep, her fond parents inform me, she constantly calls for her beautiful Hayseed. ‘Won't you come back to her, Mons. Botts? In eager anticipation of our reply, remain, our Obedient Servant, Henri Blaudon.” IMOTHY BOTTS stood up. “I better wash my face, any way, to play safe,” he muttered. He locked the front door as he went out, hesitated and the: ed, won't need that French in Ten Simple Lessons k—married folks can act conversa- caege On the street he was stopped by an old lady acquaintance. “Why, Me er she ee appily, “I’m so to see you! You bin to the war, they say. My, it must have been terrible!”* “Not so bad,” de- mare Timothy Botts. “You tie Miz Tucker, ain't everybody as knows war like me. the side and there's the bad side. precious let- eee seal atte be a ticket to Fra * he ve, it ¥ Hid Me Tak sb wa ran, x i a taule—into heaven.” s hi MAGLI Lc a pote ra (* oy (! Gr