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My Little Black Book
J IV—DEAD MAN'S WOODS
By Charles C. Conaty.
As if in justification of its black
cover aiul the unsheathed sword
stamped thereon, my Little Black
Book becomes now a record of bur
ials. Page upon page of names,
numbers, and regiments, wifh dates
and places af burial, greet my sight.
Before my mind those sad scenes
rise again. We never became used
to death. The death of one of my
. boys always tore at my heart
strings, and, after a while, the
sight of a dead soldier would always
bring the tears to my eyes and to
my heart. Everything considered,
the number of those whom 1 buried
without being able to identify, was
so small as to make me very intol
erant of that too-often used expres
sion “blown to pieces.” Such cases
were very, very rare. Since most
, of our casualties came during the
retreat of the enemy, our cemeteries
f were spared the bombardment,
which, as in the case of many Al
lied and German cemeteries, meant
obliteration.
Grave-digging, at best a severe
task, was - dcV'ly hard for our lads.
Physically exhausted as they were,
digging required super-human ef
forts; and the boys suffered even
more mentally, as they buried their
fallen comrades. It was a very de
pressing duty. Many a brave lad
reached the breaking point as lie
helped to lay his “buddie” away.
We buried only when we had no
pressing \l rk with the living, for
our first duty was, of course, to
them. Nor were we always able to
bury our dead; ofteen we had to
leave this task to the charity of
those who followed us. A shallow
grave in a trench or shell-hole;
a hurried prayer; a crude cross or
sometimes but a stick to which one
identification disk was attached;
this was all the ccrmony possible
The report of the burial and the lo
cation of the grave furnished by
the burial officer to the Graves’
gistration Service made it easy
for. that service to locate and ider.
tify the grave when they establish-
, in the wake of an advance, a
ttie-area cemetery.
“What are you dreaming about,
tlier? You haven’t said a word in
• last ten minutes. Here, have a
oke.”
I lit the cigarette which Dick
pded me. He and I were silting
i’ler a tree enjoying the glory of
Jj early June morning. Dick was
PHr Scout Officer; small in stature,
but big in heart and courage and
faith—a reall soldier if ever there
existed one. For sometime now we
had been bunk-mates inasmuch as
we had pooled our blankets and
overcoats; our “bunk,” however,
being mother earth. When one gets
accustomed to that same mother’s
bosom, it is not the worst bed in
orld, nor vet the hardest.
THE TRUCK RIDE
[‘I was thinking,” I answered him,
the truck ride which landed us
ye. Do you remebber the town we
sed through about noon-time,
acre the women and the girls,
hen they saw we were Americans,
iterally covered us with the roses
jpjy threw as they wished us ‘Bon
iance. s It has stuck in my mind
er since, that they knew we were
ded for the front, and wanted tc
show us their love with their roses,
I was thinking, too, of this place we
landed in. It seems that every
time we move we land in a
[worse place than the one we leave,
wonder where we’ll land next?”
“Seeing that we are now in the
lird line, I guess the next move
iii land us in the front line, “he
answered. “But we should worry.
You know Father, I’ve been thinking
about the mass you said yesterday
morning. All I could think of while
u were saying it was the birth
our Lord at Bethlehem. And the
lie thought came to all the boys.”
It came to me, too, Dick, but 1
n’t think anyone else had no-
d the similarity.” It had liap-
tliat the only place I could
hat morning to say mass in
part of the farm-house
had been used as a stable,
dark and dirty, but as I of-
he Holy Saeirfice I felt the
of the coming of Christ at
Consecration more than c,vcr
si As at His first coming, He
eing born in a stable,
ing our talk a battery of big
behind us opened fire on the
in positions at Chateau Thier-
it was not long before the
guns were replying. It was
ime under shell-fire, which
in why we sat there won-
guessing where the next
d laud. And they were
landing pretty close 1
“How do you like this war, as far
as you’ve gone, F'alher?” my com
panion asked me.
“Can’t say that this appeals to me
at all, “I answered. “This looks like
a good time to start for home. We
haven’t got a chance to throw any
thing back.”
A Hit.
About then a boy came running
up the road nearby yelling that tlic-
house down below had been hit and
several men wounded. We sent him
back to tell the medicals department
while we headed for the place that
was hit. Even as we were getting
the 'wounded out several shells land
ed in the courtyard. I asked the
boys if they smelted gas, but they
said not. How “green” we were
Before nightfall practically every
man who had been in that house,
or had handled any of the wounded
was back in the hospital, gassed.
And several of the boys died. But
the Lord protected me then as He
did so often afterwards.
That every evening we were or
dered into the front line to relieve
a regiment which had born the
brunt of the Offensive of July four
teenth. 1 made a hurried trip around
the.companies and gave the boys
general absolution. After a ride of
about ten miles in trucks, we found
ourselves about midnight on the top
of a hill. That was all we knew
of our position, we were on the top
of the hill. Behind us the 155s
boomed regularly, and soon, as wc
followed our giude, we passed the
75s barking like Impatient puppies.
The word was passed along in
.hoarse whispers to “put on your
masks,” and we weren’t slow in ad
justing them. This made our pro
gress all the more difficult for the
eye-pieces of our masks soon be
came coated with steam and mois
ture, virtually' rendering us blind.
There are easier things in life than
cross-country marching on a dark
night with gas masks on. The gas
officers must have been taking no
chances for when we finally took the
masks off because we could stand
them no longer, we found not the
slightest trace of the abominable
stuff.
There was not much doubt of the
fact that we were near the front.
In addition to the booming of guns
and the exploding of shells, we
could hear the burst of a Chauchaut
rifle and the put-put-put of machine
gun fire. At regular intervals a
flare would go up and turn the dark
ness into startling brightness. Now
wc found some engineers digging
trenches, a reserve line, a sort of
secondary defence. When at last
we halted in an, open field in an
angle formed by some woods, we
were all pretty nervous. Here we
remained so long that I began to
get worried, and went up to the
head of the column to find out what
was the matter. 1 discovered the
officers had all gone forward, where
and why nobody knew. The know
ledge of our nearness to the line
made me fear' that daylight would
find us exposed to the observation
and fire of the enemy. So we all
moved into the woods nearby till
our officers should return.
A DEATH TRAP
It was not long before one of the
boys told me, in a thoroughly scar
ed tone, that lie had found a dead
American soldier. 1 stationed him
near the corpse to keep others
away, but soon so many dead were
found that it was useless to try' to
conceal from the boys he fact that
wc were in what had been for some
ofitfit, a veritable death-trap. It is
no wonder that we always referred
to that woods as “Dead Man’s
Wood.” The carnage had been ter
rible. All about us was evidence of
the destruction tnat had been
wrought. The dead were found
evcry'where, some killed by' shell
fire, others dead from gas; on the
ground, in fox-holes, and in dug-
outs; wherever we went we found
dead. Equipment of all kinds was
scattered about in utmost disorder.
When we saw suen proof of what
a barrage had done vo these woods,
we did not require much urging to
get busy digging in. When all the
men were started on this work, 1
went out to see if I could locate our
Major. The path I followed into the
woods showed even worse sights
than we had met in the fringes of
wood-shell-holes, trees bowled over
and obstructing the little path, wa
gons blown to bits; dead horses,
horribly swollen and repulsive; it
seemed as if nothing had escaped.
To my left, as I followed a wogan-
trail, I could see where the kitchens
had been set up; now a sorry enough
sight. Here, by the trail, had stood
an ammunition wagon. It had been
hit and all about were signs that its
ammunition had added to the de
struction. Evidently a soldier had
sought protection from the shelling
by lying beneath the wagon; his
body was riddled with the bullets
set off by the hitting of the wagon.
By this time I was dazed; I could
think of nothing but that the war
was over; we were too late. I stum
bled over the wreck of a stretcher
carriage and looked into the open
eyes of a mule silting in a most
natural posure by the side of the
road. The look on that mule’s lace
haunted me for several days. The
deeper I got into the woods the
worse seemed the destruction; and
the more worried did I become. A
sort of doorway appearing just off
the trail. I decided to investigate
it, and after half failing down the
stairs over what I thought to lie
more dead Americans. I found my
self in a dug-out. By the side of a
little table, on which a couple of
candles were burning, sat a wild
eyed man, smoking a cigarette. The
light shed candle showed me forms
huddled on the floor, and in the
bunks which lined one side of the
dug-out. 1 remember asking wliat
had happened and whether the line
had held.
The wild-eyed man sort of smiled
—I suppose I was pretty scared
looking boy. Of course the line held.
What happened was that on the
night of the fourteenth of July
Jerry had put a box-barrage on these
woods. But the battalion of which
this wild-eyed man was Major had
REMEMBERS MARQUETTE
Mrs. Cramer Generous to
Catholic School in Her Will
NURSE AT GETTYSBURG
Milwaukee,—Marquette University
is expected to be the beneficiary' of
between $200,000 and $300,000 as a
result of the disposition of the es
tate of the late Mrs. Harriet E. Cra
mer, for many years proprietor of
the Evening Wisconsin, a Milwaukee
daily paper.
Mrs. Cramer’s estate is said to be
valued at $800,000. A sum of $100,000
has been given outright to Mar
quette and other bequests include
$35,000 to the Gesu Church for the
erection of a high alter in memory
of the Rev. Stanislaus P. Lalu-
miere. S. J.; $20,000 to Archbishop
Messmer for the care of orphaned
children of Belgium, French, Ital
ian and Polish soldiers; $5,000 to St.
Francis’ Seminary; $5,000 to St.
John’s Institute for deaf mutes;
$10,000 to the House of the Good
Shepherd; $2,000 to the Little Sis
ters’ of the Poor; $2,000 to the Rev.
John A. Reidl, professor of St.
Francis’ Seminary and $2,000 to the
Rev. Paul Sliaffcl, godson.
After all other beneficiaries are
paid, the residum of the estate, es
timated at over $200, 000, will go to
Marquette University.
DEAN WINS HONOR MEDAL
Chicago,—Announcement of the
award of the Scientific American
medal to Pullman Company for the
most efficient safety device in the
field of railway transportation lias
been made here. The device is
known as the “Dean end,” and is
named in honor of Richmond Dean
of this city, former chairman of
the executive committee of the
National Council of Catholic Men.
stopped Jerry’s offensive and turn
ed him back. And who was I, and
what did I want around here?
So I told him of our battalion ly
ing up at the edge of the woods,
our fright and my nervousness. Had
he seen our Major?
Just then our Major and the rest
of our officers, who had accompan
ied him on a reconnaissance, came
into the dug-out, rather surprised
to find me there. Soon our boys
were passing by on their way into
the line to relieve what was left of
the valiant battalion there, And the
faces of my boys showed that, at
least, I was not the only scared man
present.
The names on the page before me
were written in those woods—names
of the dead.
Nun Who Served in War of
Sixties Dead.
Philadelphia,—Sixty-four years of
religious life were brought to an
end last week with the death of
Sister Mary Joseph, superior emeri
tus of St. Vincent’s Home, Drexel
Hill.
Her acquaintances embraced many
of the most famous churchmen of
the last half century, including
Bishop Neumann, Bishop Wood,
Archbishop Ryan and Archbishop
Prendergast. During the Civil \V ar
she helped to nurse the sick and
wounded soldiers, being rushed by
night, on one occasion, from Em-
mitsburg to the battlefield of
Gettysburg, where she aided in
taking care of the wounded. The
journey was beset with great dan
gers and, on one occasion, a guard,
mistaking Sister Joseph and her
companions for Confederates,
raised his gun to fire. He realized
his error just in time.
Sister Joseph was born in Ireland
and spent the greater part of her
religious life in the Philadelphia
diocese. She was virtually the
founder of St. Vincent”s Maternity
Hospital, at Seventeenth street and
Woodland avenue. Recently the
alumnae of the home at Drexel Hill
erected a marble altar in the chap
el of the home as a testimonial of
their regard for Sister Joseph.
FORMER GRAND KNIGHT
Of Augusta Council Dies at
Butte, Montana.
Augusta, Ga.—Word has been re
ceived in this city of the death of
Daniel J. O’Donohue, of Butte, Mon.
Mr. O’Donohue was a former resi
dent of Augusta, being at one time
assistant manager of J. B. White
& Co.’s enterprises. He was grand
knight of Patrick Walsh council,
Knights of Columbus, of Augusta,
and widely known in Georgia and
neighboring states. He left several
years ago for Cincinnati, and then
located in Montana. He was about
60 years of age.
. NOW
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Catalog on Request
Write us for suggestions, and
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Factory
915-917 Ellis Street
Phone 3472.
AUGUSTA, GA.
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Diamonds and Jewelry
840 Broad Street,
Augusta, Ga.
An Advertisement in
THE BULLETIN
reaches most of the 20,000
Catholics in Georgia.
Write for Rates.
HARPER BROS
Art Store
426 Eighth St. Phone 730.
Augusta, Ga.
Hansberger’s
Pharmacy
Drugs, Toilet
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Candy
Prescriptions Carefully
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You Love to Eat—Sheron’s
934 BROAD STREET
AUGUSTA, GA.
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