The first of the flotilla to return. The ap mother-ship, passing through, called to the lingering group of submarine officers. "The X-4 is coming up the bay, and the X-12 has been reported from signal station." The news was received with a little hum of friendly interest. "Wonder what Ned will have to say for himself this time." "Must have struck pretty good weather." "Bet you John has been looking for another chance at that Hun of his." The talk drifted away into other channels. A little time passed. Then suddenly a door opened, and, one after the other, entered the three officers of the first home-coming submarine. They were clad in various ancient unipearance forms which might have been worn by an apprentice lad in a garage: old gray flannel shirts, and stout grease-stained shoes; several days had passed since their faces had felt a razor, and all were a little pale from their cruise. But the liveliest of keen eyes burned in each resolute young face, eyes smiling and glad. of the crew. Captain his story. A friendly hullabaloo broke forth. Chairs scraped, one fell with a crash. "Hello, boys!" "Hi, Ned!" "For the love of Pete, Joe, shave off those whiskers of yours; they make you look like Trotzky." "See any Germans?" "Hi, Manuelo"-this to a Filipino mess-boy who stood looking on with impassive curiosity -"serve three more breakfasts." "Anything go for you?" "Well, if here isn't our old Bump!" The crowd gathered round Captain Ned, who Ned begins had established contact (this is a military term quite out of place in a work on the navy) with the eagerly sought, horribly elusive German. "Go on, Ned, give us an earful. What time did you say it was?" "About 5 a. m.," answered the captain. He stood leaning against a door, and the fine head, the pallor, the touch of fatigue, all made a very striking and appealing picture. "Say about eight minutes after five. I'd just come up to take a look-see, and saw him just about two miles away, on the surface, and moving right along. So I went under to get into a An enemy good position, came up again, and let him have that one. Well, he saw it just as it was almost on escaped. him, swung her round, and dived like a ton of lead." The audience listened in silent sympathy. One could see the disappointment on the captain's face. "Where was he?" "About so-and-so." "That's the jinx that got after the convoy sure as you live." submarine The speaker had had his own adventures with the Germans. A month or so before, he had shoved up his periscope and spotted a Fritz on the surface in full noonday. The watchful Fritz, however, had been lucky enough to see the enemy almost at once, and had dived. The American followed suit. The eyeless submarine manœuvred about, some eighty feet under, the German evidently "making his getaway," the American hoping to be lucky enough to pick up Fritz's trail, and get a shot at him when he rose again to the top. And while the Two blind two blind ships manoeuvred there in the dark tried to of the abyss, the keel of the fleeing German had actually, by a curious chance, scraped along the der water. top of the American vessel and carried away the wireless aerials! All were silent for a few seconds, thinking over the affair. It was not difficult to read the thought in every mind, the thought of getting at ships that find each other un the Germans. The characteristic aggressiveness of the American mind, heritage of a people compelled to subdue a vast, wild continent, is a wonderful military attribute. The idea of our navy is, "Get after 'em, keep after 'em, stay after 'em, don't give 'em an instant of security or rest." And none have this fighting spirit deeper in their hearts than our gallant boys of the submarine patrol. "That's all," said Captain Ned. "I'm going to have a wash-up." He lifted a grease-stained hand to his cheek, rubbed his unshaven beard, and grinned. "Any letters ?" "Whole bag of stuff. Smithie put it on your desk." Captain Ned wandered off. Presently, the door opened again, and three more veterans of the patrol cruised in, also in ancient uniforms. There were more cheers; more friendly cries. "Trotzky" It was unanimously decided that the "Trotzky" "Ras- of the first lot had better take a back seat, since the second in command of the newcomers was "a perfect ringer for Rasputin." and putin." patrol hunts a lost torpedo. "See anything?" "Nothing much. There's a bit of wreckage just off shore. Saw a British patrol boat early Tuesday morning. I was on the surface, lying between her and the sunrise; she was hidden by a low-lying swirl of fog; she saw us first. When we saw her, I made signals, and over she came. Guess what the old bird wanted A British wanted to know if I'd seen a torpedo he'd fired at me! An old scout with white whiskers; one of those retired captains, I suppose, who has gone back on the job. He admitted he had received the Admiralty notes about us, but thought we acted suspicious. Did you ever hear of such nerve?" When the war was young, I served on land with messieurs les poilus. I have seen the contests of aviators, also trench-raids and the fighting for Verdun. Since then I have seen the war at sea. To my mind, if there is one service of this war which more than any other courage requires those qualities of endurance, skill, and of the courage whose blend the fighting men call-patrol. Elizabethanly, but oh, so truly "guts," it is the submarine patrol. France took tender care of her wounded heroes, and the following narrative gives a number of touching incidents observed by one who visited several of the French hospitals and received stories and experiences from the wounded soldiers. submarine WOUNDED HEROES OF FRANCE The enthusiasm of a wounded soldier in 1914. The T ABBE FELIX KLEIN HE descriptions which are to follow belong to history already ancient; to the end of 1917 and the beginning of 1918. So rapid is the march of events with us now! The soldier wounded during the first months of the War came to us overflowing with enthusiasm, eager to express himself. His mind was full of picturesque and varied impressions and he asked for nothing better than to tell about them. Willingly he described the emotions and spirit of the moment of departure; his curiosity in the presence of the unknown, the shock of the first contact with the enemy, the dizzy joy of initial successes. He confessed the amazement and pain of the first checks and the headlong retreat which followed them. He spoke of the famous Joffre's "ordre du jour” when, in the battle of the Marne, the men were told to take the offensive. They stopped the enemy. They pursued him. They experienced the intoxication of a victory that gave back to France her old prestige and felt with certainty, although at first confusedly, that their battle. was a decisive event in human history. To this brillant and epic beginning succeeded a long and sombre tragedy, to this Iliad worthy of a Homer an Inferno worthy of a Dante. So we cannot wonder that the wounded of 1918 differed from those of 1914, and that their faces, like the face of the Florentine poet retragedy. turning from hell, reflected the terrible things through which they had passed. The suffering Copyright, Catholic World, October, 1918. wounded of 1918 reflect the long |