§ 97 The Fate of the Saloon
In the last months of the fighting in 1918, a draft regiment of colored troops from the Gulf States went in near the Flanders line, where the British held, to help mop up the retreating Germans. One morning three of my fellow-correspondents borrowed a staff car and rode up to an abandoned village where there had been sharp fighting, seeking for a forward dressing-station with intent to get stories from wounded men.
At an entrance to an improvised hospital in a dugout one of the group came upon a coal-black infantryman who, while not seriously injured, bore unmistakable signs of having come into abrupt contact with some form of high and violent explosive. He was wearing, for the moment, his belt and his boots and a part of his collar. The correspondent said to him:
“Soldier, how did you get hurt?”
“Well, mister,” stated the victim, “it ain’t altogether clear in my own mind yit, but I could mebbe tell you some of de things w’ich hez occurred.”
“I should be very pleased to hear them.”
“Well, suh, at daylight this mawnin’ we fell into one of these yere lil’ towns up yere jest ’bout the time dem Bush Germans wuz fallin’ out of it. But even ef we did have de scoundrels on de run, dey didn’t fergit to shoot at us ez dey went away. Dem big shells wuz whistlin’ past over my haid, talkin’ to demselves, an’ ever’ now an’ then one of ’em would come by w’ich, it seemed lak, t’wuz speakin’ to me pussonally. I could hear it say jest ez plain: ‘You ain’t never gwine see-e-e-e-e-e yore home in Ala-bam!’
“So I sez to myse’f, I sez: ‘Seein’ ez dese Germans is all daid an’ scattered an’ ever’thing, ’twon’t be any real harm ef I gets under cover myse’f!’
“So I looks ’round fur a place to git at. ’Co’se, most of de houses in dat town hez done been shot down flat. But I sees one still standin’, wid de roof on it, too—a lil’ place called a Taverne. Dat’s whut a Frenchman say, boss, w’en he means saloon.
“Natchelly, dey ain’t nobody livin’ thar no mo’. So I walks up an’ I teks hold of de doorknob an’ I’se jest fixin’ to turn de knob an’ shove open de do’ an’ step in w’en BAM! right ’long side of me one of dem German shells went off an’ tuk dat saloon right out of my hand!”