CHAPTER I.
From Mufti to Khaki.
It was in an office in Jersey City.
I was sitting at my desk talking to 1
a lieutenant of the Jersey National
Guard. On the wall was a hig war
map decorated with variously colored
little flags showing the position of the
opposing armies on the western front ,
in France. In front of me on the desk i
lay a New York paper with big flaring '
headlines:
LUSITANIA SUNK! AMERICAN
LIVES LOST!
The windows were open and a feel
ing of spring pervaded the air.
Through the open windows came the
strains of a hurdy-gurdy playing In the
street—‘‘I Didn’t Raise My Roy to Be
a Soldier.”
“Lusitania Sunk! American Lives
Lost!”—“I Didn’t Raise My Boy to
Be a Soldier.” To us these did not
seem to jibe.
The lieutenant In silence opened one
of the lower drawers of his desk and
took front it an American flag which
he solemnly draped over the war map
on the wall. Then, turning to me with
a grim face, said:
“How ubout It, sergeant? You had
better get out the muster roll of the .
Mounted Scouts, as I think they will
be needed In the course of a few days.”
We busied ourselves till late in the
evening writing out emergency tele
grams for the men to report when the
call should come from Washington.
Then we went home.
I crossed over to New York, and as
I went up Fulton street to take the
subway to Brooklyn, the lights in the
tall buildings of New York seemed to
be burning brighter than usual, as if
they, too, had read “Lusitania Sunk!
American Lives Lost!” They seemed
to be glowing with anger and righteous
ladignution. and tlielr rays wigwagged
the message, “Repay 1"
Months passed, the telegrams lying
bandy, but covered with dust. Then,
one momentous morning the lieutenant
with a sigh of disgust removed the
flag from the war map and returned
Guy Empey.
to his desk. I Immediately followed
this action hy throwing the telegrams
Into the wastebasket. Then we looked
at each other In silence. He was
squirming In his chair and I felt de
pressed and uneasy.
The telephone rang and I answered
It. It was a business call for me, re- ,
questing my services for an out-of-1
town assignment. Business was not
very good, so this was very welcome. '
After listening to the proposition I
(teemed to bo swayed by a peculiarly
strong force within me, and answered.
"I am sorry that 1 cannot accept your
offer, but I am leaving for England
next week,” and hung up the receiver.
The lieutenant swung around in his
chair, and stared at me In blank aston
ishment. A sinking sensation came
over me, but I defiantly answered his
look with. “Well, It’s so. I’m going.”
And I went.
The trip across was uneventful. I
landed at Tilbury. England, then got
Into a string of matchbox cars and
proceeded to London, arriving there
about 10 p. m. I took a room In a hotel
near St. Baucras station for “five and
six—fire extra.” The room was minus
the fire, but ’the “extra” seemed to
keep me warm. That night there was
a Zeppelin raid, but I didn’t see much
of It, because the sift in the curtains
was too small and I had no desire to
make it larger. Next morning rlie tel
ephone hell rang, and someone asked,
“Are you there?” I was, hardly. Any
way, 1 learned that the Zaps had re
turned to their fatherland, so 1 went
out luto the street expecting to see
scenes of uwlul devastation and a cow
oring populace, but everything was
normal. People were calmly proceed
ing to their work. frosting the
street, I accosted a Bobbie with:
“Can you direct me to the place of
damage?”
He asked me, “What damage?”
In surprise, I answered, “Why, the
damage caused by the 7,ops.”
With a wink lie replied:
“There was no damage; we missed
them again.”
After several fruitless inquiries of
•the pnssorsby, I decided to go on my
own !:i search of ruined buildings and
scem-s of destruction. I boarded n bus
which carried me through Tottenham
Court road. Recruiting posters were
everywhere. The one that impressed
me most was a life-size picture of
Lord Kitchener with his finger point
ing directly at me. under the caption
of “Your King and Country Need You.”
No matter which way I turned, the
accusing finger followed me. I was
in American, in mufti, and had a little
American tlag In the lapel of :nv coat.
I had no king, and my country had
seen fit not to need me, but still that
pointing finger made me feel small and
ill at ease. I got off the bus to try
to dissipate tills feeling by mixing
with the throng of the sidewalks.
Presently I came to a recruiting of
fice. Inside, sitting at a desk was a
lonely Tommy Atkins. I decided to in
terview him in regard to joining the
P.ritish army. I opened the door. He
looked up and greeted me with “I s’y.
myte, want to tyke on?”
I looked jit him and answered, “Well,
whatever that is, I’ll take a chance
at It."
Without the aid of an interpreter, I
found out that Tommy wanted to know
if I eared to join the British army. He
asked me: “Did you ever hear of the
Itoyul Fusiliers?” Well, iq London,
you know, Yanks nre supposed to know
everything, so I was not going to ap
pear ignorant and answered, “Sure.”
After listening for one hnlf-honr to
Tommy’s tnle of their exploits on the
tiring line, I derided to join. Tommy
took me to the remitting headquarters,
where I met a typical English captain.
He asked my nationality. I immedi
ately pulled out my American passport
and showed it to him. It was signed
by Lansing. After looking at the
passport, he informed me that he was
sorry but couljJ not enlist me, as it
would be a breach of neutrality. I
Insisted that I was not neutral, be
cause to me it seemed that a real
American could not bo neutral when
big things were in progress, but the
captain would not enlist me.
With disgust in my heart I went out
In the street. I had gone about a
block when a recruiting sergeant who
had followed me out of the office
tapped me on the shoulder with his
swagger stick and said: "S y, I can
get you in the army. We have a ‘lof
tonant’ down at the other office who
can do anything. He has just come
out of the O. T. 0. (Officers’ Training
corps) and does not know what neu
trality is." I decided to take a chance,
and accepted his invitation for an in
froduetion t« the lieutenant. I entered
the office and went up to him. opened
up my passport and said:
“Before going further I wish to state
that I am an American, not too proud
to fight, and want to join your army."
He looked at me in a nonchalant
manner, and answered, “That's all
ngnt; we nine an.vtmng over Here.
T looked nt him kind of hard and re
plied. “So 1 notice,” but It went over
his head.
He got out an' enlistment Monk, and
placing his linger on a blank line said,
“Sign here.”
I answered, “Not on your tintype.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Then I explained to him that I would
not sign it without first reading i(. I
read it over and signed for duration of
war. Some of the recruits were lucky.
They signed for seven years only!
Then he asked me my birthplace. T
answered, “Ogden, L’tah.”
He said, “Oh, yes, just outside of
New York?”
With a smile, T replied, “Well, it's up
the state a little."
Then T was taken before the doctor
and passed as physically fit. and was
issued a uniform. When 1 reported
back to the lieutenant, he suggested
that, being an American, I go on re
cruiting service and try to shame some
of the slackers into joining the army.”
“All you have to do,” he said, “is to
go out on the street, and when you see
a young fellow in mufti who looks
physically tit. just stop him and give
him this kind of a talk: ‘Aren’t you
ashamed of yourself, a Britisher, phys
ically tit, and In mufti when your king
and country need you? Ihm’t you
know that your country is at war and
that the place for every young l’.riton
Is on the tiring line? Here I am. an
American, in khaki, who came four
thousand miles to tight for your king
and country, uml you, us yet, huve not
enlisted. Why don't you join? Now
is lbt> time.’
“Tills argument ought to Ret many
recruits, Einpey. so go out and see
wliat you enri do.”
He then gave me a small rosette of
red, white and blue ribbon, with three
little streamers hanging down. This
was tiie recruiting Insignia and was
to be worn on the left side of the cap.
Armed with a swagger stick and my
patriotic rosette, I went out into Tot
tenham Court road in quest of cannon
fodder.
Two or three poorly dressed civil
ians passed me. and although they ap
peared physically tit, I said to myself,
“They don’t want to join the army;
perhaps they have someone dependent
on them for support,” so I did not ac
cost them.
Coming down the street I saw n
young dandy, top hat and all, with a
fashionably dressed girl walking be
side 1dm. T muttered, “You tire iny
meat,” and when he came abreast of
me I stepped directly in his path and
stopped him with my swagger stick,
saying:
“You would look fine in khaki; why
not change that top hat for a steel
helmet? Aren’t you ashamed of your
self. a husky young chap like you in
mufti when men are needed in the
trenches? Here 1 am, an American,
Swearing in a Recruit.
came four thousand miles from Ogden,
Utah, just outside of New York, to
fight for your king and country. Don’t |
he a slacker, buck up and get into uni- j
form; come over to the recruiting of
flee ami I’ll have you enlisted.”
He yawned and answered, “I don’t
care if you came forty thousand miles, !
no one asked you to,” and he walked
oa. The girl gave me a sneering look; i
I was speechless.
1 recruited for three weeks and near
ly got one recruit.
This perhaps was not the greatest
stunt in the world, hut it got back at
the officer who had told me, “Yes, we
take anything over here.” I had been
spending a good lot of my recruiting
time in the saloon bar of the Wheat
Sheaf pub (there was a very attractive
blonde barmaid, who helped kill time—
1 was not as serious in those days ns
T was a little later when I reached
the front)—well, it was the sixth day
and my recruiting report was blank.
I was getting low in the pocket—bar
maids haven’t much list lor anyone
who cannot buy drinks—so I looked
around for recruiting material. Y< u
know a man on recruiting service gets
a “bob” or shilling for every recruit
he entices into joining the army, the !
recruit is supposed to get this, but he
would not be a recruit if he were wise
to this fact, would he?
Down at the end of the bar was a
young fellow in mufti who was very!
patriotic—he had about four “Old
Six” ales aboard. He asked me if he
could join, showed me his left hand,
two fingers were missing, but 1 said
that did not matter as “we take any
thing over here.” The left hand Is
tlie rifle hand as the piece is carried
at the slope on the left shoulder. Near
ly everything in England is “by the
left,” even general traffic keeps to the
port side.
I took tli§ applicant over to head
quarters, where he was hurriedly ex
amined. Recruiting surgeons were
busy in those days and did not have
much time for thorough physical exam
inations. My recruit was passed as
“tit" by the doctor and turned over to
a corporal to make note of his scars. |
I was mystified. Suddenly the corpo
ral burst out with. “Rlime me, two of
his lingers are gone.” Turning to me
he said, “You certainly have your
nerve with you. not 'alf you ain't, to
bring this beggar in.”
Tile doctor came over and exploded,
“What do you mean by bringing in a
man in this condition?”
Looking out of the corner of my eye
I noticed that the officer who had re
cruited me had joined the group, and
I could not help answering. “Well, sir,
I was told that you took anything over
here.”
I think they called it “Yankee im
pudence,” anyhow it ended my recruit
ing.
(i ontinued Next Week.)
DRS. MAYFIELD & FRENCH
Physicians end Surgeons
At Company Hospital
Office Hours:
8 to 9 a m., 3:30 to 5 p. in.; 7 to 8 p. m. 1
Sundays: 9 to 10 a. in; 3 to 4 p. m.
IWTUJ
ARKANSAS
By an American Soldier Who Went
ARTHUR GUY EMPEY
When the Lusitania was sunk Arthur
Guy Empey decided that he could not
wait for his country to declare war — so
he sailed without orders for Engiand,
and enlisted as a Canadian.
He recounts this incident in “OVER
THE TOP’* in less than five hundred
words. In a few thousand more words
he completes his experiences in England
— and after that he is in France —for
the greater part of the eighteen months
before he was invalided home, in the
“Front Line Trenches.”
“OVER THE TOP” is the first story
by one of the American soldiers who
went to France, has been a real com
batant and has seen long service in the
trenches.
Sergeant Empey tells what it actually
means and feels like:
to be wounded seven times;
to live for a year and a half with mud
and rats and shells;
to be covered with “cooties” and never
to get rid of them;
to go “over the top” in a ch arge;
to grasp for your gas helmet when a
second’s delay mean’s death;
The Greatest War
Story Ever Written
to capture a rrussian; '
to get tangled up in barb-wire with that machine gun working a few yards away;
to lie for thirty-six hours wounded and unconscious in “No Man’s Land.”
For a year and a half, until he fell wounded in “No Man’s Land’’this American soldier
saw more actual fighting and real warfare than any war correspondent who has written
about, the war. His experiences, are grim, but they are thrilling, and lightened by a
touch of humor as original as the Soldiers Three. And they are True.
W e take pleasure in announcing that we have secured serial rights to this remarkabl . ..cry
and that it will appear in install ments - - . —— « p 9
in this newspaper It Is the Real bturr!
WILD FEARS CF ARMY LIFE
In All Wars Soldier Has About Nine
teen Chances Out of Twenty of
Surviving Year’s Service.
Numerous incidents reported in
the United States since the selective
conscription law was passed have
shown that many persons have a
wildly exaggerated notion of the
dangers and hardships of army serv
ice. They evidently feel that a call
to the colors is about the same thing
as a death sentence. A few have
killed themselves. Some have shot
off an arm or cut off several fingers.
Other mutilations have been re
ported.
This is,the madness of fear. Tn
all wars, even in the tremendous con
flict now raging, a soldier has about
nineteen chances out of twenty of
surviving a year’s service. In two
years In does not run as much as a
10 per cent risk of death. German
and British records indicate that the
ratio of fatalities is not more than
one out of twenty-five men annu
ally.
As for hardships, some soldiers
like the change from the conditions
of civil life. Many seek to remain
in military service after wars end.
X'_1.. -11 „
.1 .
• ’ ‘ ' Hi* II 11V V.'I. U|'Vi 111/ W I I UO DUJ
they feel unusually well and physi
cally fit. Disease in modern armies
maintained by advanced nations is
less common than in ordinary occu
pations.
War is prim and terrible enough
without wild exaggerations of its
perils and its sufferings. Always
its chances leave a good balance on
the side of safety. Any man who
kills or maims himself to escape mil
itary sen ice is not only a coward but
a fool. Cleveland Leader.
ALWAYS ON HAND,
‘•'Do you claim any permanent cure
at this health resort?”
“Oh. yes; we'\e got the same man
icure we always had.”
A PROOF TO THE CONTRARY.
“Electricity was not well know a
to the ancients."
‘‘Why wa n't it? Didn’t .Noah
have arc lights?”
... . .;_J a
WHAT THE
RED CROSS
IS DOING
AND WHAT YOU CAN DO
CANTEEN SERVICE DEPARTMENT.
In the Southwestern Division of the Red Cross, which includes the State*
cl Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Texas, there have been organ
.»ed 97 Red Cross Canteens in towns a'ong the main lines of railway travel
co readier aid of every kind to troop trains.
In large movements of troops delays are unavoidable, and these bodies
of men will often suffer from hunger and thirst in spite of the best effor:*
of the Army, and to give some refreshment to these men is a service the
Red Cross is undertaking.
The corr.nrander of every troop train J
is supplied with a list of the towns j
where Red Cross canteens have been !
organized, and he is instructed to wire
ahead for any service that a canteen
can give. The organization of a can
teen consists of a chairman and a
committee of at least 10 members. Ar
i angeniertts are made beforehand fot
the preparation of coffee and sand
v. iches in large Quantities on short
notice and their transportation to the
slatton. The average troop train of
600 men w ill require 60 gallons of cot
fee. Fmit, cigarettes, etc., are also
distributed. Hot coffee is alw ays most
acceptable. Although supplied with
the army travel ration, it is often ira
poesible to provide every troop train
with cooking facilities, in which case
hot coffee is greatly appreciated by
the men.
If a troop train commander finds
that, owing to delay, his food supply
is exhausted, he will wire his require
ments to a canteen and they will us*
their organization to supply his needs
i In case of serious illness demanding
immediate attention, the canteen will
lu ve an ambulance at the station to
remove the man to a hospital without
delay. This service has already betpi
the means of saving the life of more
t than one of our boys.
* I Postal cards are distributed to the
men to write home. This little attep
tio-i is much appreciated by them, as
the iroops are often not allowed to
j leave the train.
Innumerable letters are received
.! showing the gratitude of the boys for
tb° favors they have received from
the Red Cross canteens all over Hie
country, all of which makes them feel
that somebody is Interested in their
welfare, and does much to cheer and
encourage them.
The personal touch of the Ked Crow*
worker Is an important factor in'main
taining the spirit of the troops, and
this is an important duty of the Red
Cross.
Too much cannot be said of the
splendid enthusiasm that the women
of ihe whole country have shown In
this work. When they have been
called upon they have responded,
whether day or night. It is a service
that all women will be glad to render
to our boys who are giving so much
That it's worth while on has but to
read the letters from the men I quota
but one:
“On our arrival at M- we were
tendered a most hearty reception by
the Red Cross. Their kindness in sen
ing us with hot coffee and sandwiches
left an impression upon the boys tba'
will never be forgotten. We cherish
not only the worth of such a gift, but
more than that the fact that the whole
nation is interested In our welfare
We welcome the organisation of a
Red Cross canteen along any main
railroad line, and the undersigned will
be glad to furnish information as to
just what duties may be expected of
them. CHARLES P. PETTITS.
Director of Canteen Service, South
western Division American RtH
Cross, 1617 Railway Exchange
Building, St. Louis, Mo.
Boxwood Is Expensive.
The most expensive wood in the
I world is said to he the boxwood, im
ported from Turkey for the use of en
gravers. The cost ranges from -i cents
a square inch up to in cents a square
Inch for the best grade An ordinary
i wagonload of boxwood .vould cost
• many thousands of dollars.
i nai s MDOut All.
Pandora was an extraordinary crea
ture. Kvery young woman is. She
Mill still, however, a young woman—
that is to say. a mixture of timidity
and boldness, of prudery and shame
lessness. of divine kindness and void
enmity of youThl'uint • «. and especially
oi profound knowledge uiul abysmal
ignoraucp.- Kscliange.