Evening Star Newspaper, November 8, 1931, Page 86

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., NOVEMBER §, 1931. BY DAVID ROGERS HE front page of the newspapors which had just bcen distrituted in the smoking compartment of the Ottawa-Montreal express carried a report of the final sitting of the Canadian comm ssion on reparations claims Featured in the lead of the story was the evidence of a former British aviator, who had testified that after he was taken prisoner by the Germans a wound in his side had been prodded daily for two wecks in an effort to force him to disclose specifications of a new allied scout plane. A casual comment by one of the occupants of the smoker had led to a general discussion of the subject of war atrocities, in the course of which a young Englishman had contributed the remark that he suppos:d, if the truth were réally known, the Germans were “no Wworse than our own troops” when it came to actual ruthlessness. “It has been definitely established,” He said, “that most of the war-time reports of German atrocities were nothing but propaganda.” Just before he made this observation, a large red-faced man had entered the compartment. The newcomer immediately took issue with the Englishman. 3 “Were you in France?” he queried bluntly. “I thought not,” he continued, when the other man shook his head. “Well, I was, see. I'm a Yank, but I went over in '15 with the second Canadian contingent, and I'm telling you that the Huns were worse than brutes. IS voice, harsh and dogmatic, rose discord=- antly above the roar and rattle of the speeding train. He glared toward the English- man with an expression of savagery which seemed entirely out of xeeping with the casual- ness of the conversation. Most of us were so amazed by the sudden- ness and ferocity of his outbreak that we just sat vhere and stared. But the Englishman was not so easily downed. Very quietly, he said: “I don't wish any ore to think that I hold a brief for the b havior of the German forces during 4 1914-1918, but neither am I pre- / pared to agree with the view that % all the brutes were on their side« of the wire. I have spent con- siderable time in Germany during recent years, and ovér there one hears al- most as grave charges with regard to the con- duct of our troops as we hear on this side with respect to German atrocities. This is the story that the Englishman related: A strange and poignantly pathetic proces- sion wended its way through the gayest street in Berlin oné™ raw, blustery afternoon late in December. Preceded by a small detach- ment of mounted ‘“schupo” came a long, strag- gling line of 2,000 men, women and children. Almost every man in the line of march, and some of the women and children as well, held a dog on the end of a leash. Most of them were big black-brown shepherd dogs or police dogs, although there were also smaller dogs. These dogs didn’t bark and yelp and tangle their chains about nearby posts like ordinary dogs. They walked straight ahead with noses up, ears cocked and tails out, splendidly im- pervious to the barking that arose from their more frivolous fellows along the route of march. The 2,000 men, women and children were blind people, the destitute blind of the city; and the dogs that accompanied them had rea- son to look serious and important, for they were the very eyes of those they were leading, and in some cases the livelihood as well. I learned from a bystander that the blind of Berlin were proceeding to a public hall to persuade the city authorities that their monthly dole of $8 for the single people, and twice that amount for the married, was hopelessly inade- quate. To me there was an irresistible appeal to that silent demonstration. I decided to fol- low them to their destination. From his grotesque little four-wheeled box at the corner of Lutherstrasse, a legless news- paper vendor shouted a cheery greeting to an acquaintance in the line of march. A pitiful figure in one of the rear ranks sent back an answering hail. This man was not only blind, but he was bereft of a leg and an arm as well. An old army coat hung in tatters from his broad shoulders. Curly blond hair grew thick about his large, well shaped head, conspicuous because he wore no hat. It was not difficult to imagine that he had once been ® splendid specimen of Teutonic manhood. But when he turned his head I was unable to suppress a shudder. Both nose and eyes were missing. The upper part of his face had been completely shot away. And yet in the same moment that I shuddered the disfigured part of his countenance seemed to fade com- pletely away, and I was only aware of his smile. What a smile it was! God must have given him that smile as a substitute for the mask which it would otherwise have been & kindness for him to have worn. b It Takes Two Sides to Make a War, and Here You See Them Both in a Powerful Post-War Adventure. WHILE I continued to stare with fascination ot this extraordinary blending of beauty and ugliness, he spoke a low-voiced command to a magnificent shepherd dog that was tied to the wrist of his one good arm. The dog added a joyous bark.of greeting to the grinning cripple on the sidewalk. I hardly moved my gaze from this remark- able pai: thfoughout the remainder of the walk to Rnlowstrasse, and when they disappeared through the doorway of the assembly hall, I resolved that I also would enter. ¥t was one of the oddest gatherings I have evor attended. The speakers were all blind men., They spoke quietly and without any atlempt at fiery oratory, apologizing at the outset for having to make such a demonstra- tion at a time when the city and the nation were faced with so many other troubles, and then convincingly justifying their conclave on grounds that what they sought was work and not charity. I was hoping that the crippled blind man with the big dog would say some- thing. But he remained silent. In the end, it was decided to send a resolution to the city government advocating the formation of a special committee to help them in their search for work and at the same time to investi- gate their contention that 32 marks was too small = a sum for them to live on. e After that they all I filed out into the cold A\ again. In a few — moments the hall ory as one of the weirdest I have ever eaten. Holtz and his master were greeted as old friends by the proprietor, who had himself lost an arm in battle, and since I was introduced as a friend, my own welcome was not less hearty. We were given a table off in a niche by itself, and the waiter very solemnly pulled out a bench for the dog, Holtz, as well as for his master and myself. After that he tied a clean white napkin about the dog’s neck, as if it were the most natural act in the world, and throughout the meal, which was a substantial one, the dog was served pre« sely the same food as were we, and consumed it without once spilling a morsel on the tablecloth. While we were eating we talked mostly of existing conditions in our respective countries. He told me that he had always thought he would like to migrate to Canada. He had been on the point of going when the war broke out in 1914, > Later on, over our mugs gf beer, I said: “I wonder if you'd find & too harrow- ing to tell me about how you got shot up so badly?” Right away his face became seri- ous, and he said: “No, I'd rather not. It isn't a pretty story.” “But there’s never anything very pretty about war,” I “No,” he replied. “War is never pretty.” Finally be said: “All right. T11 tell you. But I don't want “4nd that's all I can remember . . .until several days later I came to and found myself in a British dressing station.” . . .® didn’t say anything else. was empty. The blind had had their day! I started after the man in the ragged army coat. It had occurred to me that it might be a.decent thing to invite him to have a bite to eat with me. It was dusk by the time I reached Nollendorf Platz and a biting sleet storm had set in. Ahead of me the man I was following had stopped to remove the overcoat from his owa back and wrap it around his dog. They were starting out again in this fashion when I over- took them. I accosted him with the word, “Cheerio.” It was an inane thing to say to a man in such patently pathetic circumstances. But be- fore I could form the phrase that I wished to say, without turning his head, he replied in perfect English, “Good evening, sir.” “Hello,” I exclaimed. ‘You speak English then?” He said: Well rather. I was a clerk in Lon- don for five years before the war.” I asked him what his name was. His answer was disconcerting. He said: “My name? Why, I have no name, But my dog’s name is Holtz.” At mention of the name, the dog yelped softly, almost it seemed in remonstrance, and then nuzzled affectionately against the stump of the missing leg. “You see,” the man continued. “He thinks I have done wrong in giving my name to him. But I say I have done right. Of what use is the name to me? And besides, my dog is more entitled to it than I am.” All this time he was smiling. I was glad because when he stopped smiling it was neces- sary for me to look the other way. I think maybe he realized this. i E went on: “My business is selling lead pencils. But it is not I who sells them. It is Holtz. We Germans oftentimes love our dogs more than we love humapity. Well, why not? Show me the human being that is more steadfast in his friendship and loyalty than a good dog.” Again, the dog barked softly. I said: “I was thinking maybe you would have dinner with me?” “Yes,” he replied. “I would enjoy it, pro- viding your invitation includes Holtz as well as myself.” That meal in Gustav’s snug little black- paneled restaurant will go down in my mem- any hard feelings. I didn’t realize what he meant by that until later. I'll tell you the story as nearly as I can the way that he related it to me. . He said: “I was a machine-gunner. I went through all the earlier years of the war with only a few minor scratches, and then came the Summer of 1918. We were in the Niewe- kerke sector. Kemmel was the key position in that area and our high command decided it myust be taken. “I guess you've read about that battle. Our artillery preparation was terrific. I don't see how therg was anything left living after our guns got through shooting. But when the first-line division went over the top, they were repulsed with terrible losses. 1" A PFTER that a Guards division was sent over. They, too, were beaten back with heavy losses. It was not until a fresh line division was brought up that we finally took Kemmel. “Well, I told you I was a machine-gunner. When the British forced us out of Kemmel, a few days later, I and my crew, together with a Jot of other sections, were ordered to fight a reaj-guard action and to hold on as long as possible. I and my crew occupied a pill-box position that gave us a perfect sweep of the ground over which your chaps were trying to advance. We held on until we were almost completely surrounded. All this time we had been inflicting heavy losses on the enemy. “In the end, with two of our crew of five knocked out, the sergeant decided to surrender. We smashed the gun and stuck up a handker- chief to indicate that we were giving up. “A small detachment of men came running up, led by an officer with a bandage wrapped around a wound in his forehead. He ordered us to hop out of the pill-box. We thought they were going to take us prisoners and started toward them with our hands held high. “Instead, the officer, a big red-faced man, turned around and said something to three men who were carrying a Lewis gun, and then he turned back to us and in German ordered us to face about and run as fast as we could in the direction of our own lines. We were sur- prised, but thought it was just a case of their Nlustrated By ART KRENZ not wanting to be bothered sending an escort back to their own base with us. “But as soon as our backs were turned I heard him order the machine-gun crew to ‘Shoot the swine.’ A few seconds later they opened fire. I saw the twc men ahead of me go down in a hail of bullets. I remember look- ing back and cursing the officer who was re- sponsible. “As nearly as I could se2, he was then oper- ating the machine gun himself. I think the men had refused to shoot. After that, a burst bullets tore through my face and at the same time I was hit badly in the arm and leg. “And that's all I can remember until several days later I came to and found myself in a British dressing station.” I didn’t say anything else. What else was there to say? I just shook hands with him, and with the dog to whom he had given his name, and after making an appointment to meet them at the same place a week later, I left. 1" A ND s0, my friend,” the man in the smok- ing compartment concluded, turning to- ward his fellow-traveler who had spoken so harshly about the Germans, “that is why I maintain that your attitude on this question is not exactly fair.” We were all waiting for the red-faced man to say something. But his volubility seemed to have deserted him. Several seconds went by before any words came from his lips. Finally he said: “How do you know Holts was telling the truth?” The man who had been living in Germany extracted a small newspaper clipping from his pocketbook. “Several days after I met Holtz and his dog,” ‘he explained, “I received a newspaper from home and quite by chance happened to run across this letter in the section devoted to communications from the public. “It is written by a former British machine- gunner and describes, from the opposite side, an incident exactly similar to the happening related to me by Holtz. It corroborates the Germthan’s story in every possible respect, even to the detail of the wound in the officer’s fore- head. Maybe you'd like to read it?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached it toward the man who had ex- pressed doubt. The other snatched it nervously. Abruptly he crushed the clipping in his big hand and threw it sav- agely to the -floor of the com- partment. “Served the squareheads right,” he snarled. “If I'd been that officer I'd have done precisely the same thing.” o At the same mo- —— ment the train gave a quick lurch, throw- ing him against the back of the seat so that his hat, which he had worn unusually low en his head, was knocked off on the floor. A jagged red scar stood out starkly on his bulging white forehead. Sewer Gas Dangers Are Found Limited HE occasional spectacular explosion in whlc_:h manholes are blown high into the air from sewér lines in the larger cities, has given rise to the belief that such explosions are an ever= bresent menace. Tests made by the Bureau of Mines, however, show that while in sore cases a dangerous accumulation of sewer gas is very probably present, the general run of sewers contains no explosive menace. In a total of 4,068 tests, only about 6 per cent revealed the presence of explosive gas, and in the great majority of these the amount of gas present was not sufficient to make an ex- plosive mix. None of the tests revealed the presence of gasoline or other hydro-carbons. The main danger in the gases found in the sewers is to workmen who might be forced to enter the pipes. The lack of oxygen would make suffocation and death likely, unless masks should be worn, Worm-Eaten Nutmegs THE shippers of nutmegs into this country last year had a three-out-of-four chance .of getting his shipment by the eagle-eyed food and drug inspectors, but one-fourth of the shipments fell by the wayside because they were worm-eaten or moldy. The general run of spices shipped to this country, however, was pure and in good condition. The spice to suffer hardest next tq nutmegs was the cloves, the objection being in the case of cloves that™ Uncle Sam wanted cloves and not a mixture of cloves and stems. All told, there were more than 500,000 pounds of cloves Téjected on this score, while the amount of nutmegs rejected were just short of a half a million pounds. The total of all other spices rejected was about equal to the amount of either of the aforé- mentioned. The general figure indicated less than 4 per cent of all shipments were found to be substandard and 37,000,000 pounds were admitted by the inspectors as being pures ~