{ title: 'The Rio Grande rattler. ([McAllen], Hidalgo County, Tex.) 1916-1917, February 09, 1918, Page 12, Image 12', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-02-09/ed-1/seq-12/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-02-09/ed-1/seq-12.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-02-09/ed-1/seq-12/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-02-09/ed-1/seq-12/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: New York State Military History Museum
IO THE WADSWORTH GAS ATTACK a n d RIO GRANDE RATTLER CALLING. By Corporal Les Rowland, Co. L, 107th XT. S. Infantry. I’m not brazen enough to classify m y self as an erstw h ile lounge lizard. . I’m not built for the part. But I owned a cane until the well-known scrap over in Europe compelled me to sup plant th a t piece of furniture w ith a U. S. rifle. Oh, my, yes, I had evening clothes, w h ite tie, studs, spats and everything. My collection of moth-balls was equal to th a t of any farm e r’s wife who ever packed a closet for the w inter m o n ths. No, the avenue lights didn’t blink when I strode forth for an evening of gayety, but I used to sort of hope my presence was adding to the brilliance of the thorough fare. Those w ere the days w hen I carved my fingernails occasionally, insisted upon top ping off . e ach m eal w ith a dem i-tasse and finger bowl, and enjoyed riding in taxicabs. It was a dull, drab existence I suffered during the initial w eeks of our stay in this arctic region. F o rtune didn’t favor me even to the extent of ushering a good looking girl across my path. Fellow w a rriors becam e devout churchm en, thereby m aking the ac quaintance of the sm a rtest belles on Main street. O p p o rtunity knocked so hard for some of the men in our outfit th a t it pushed their respective front doors back into their kitchens. But I continued to get now h ere fast. Beauties th a t would im p a ir the sight of the best pair of orbs in the arm y flocked to camp in great droves to see the boys. Roads w ere blocked w ith Southern loveliness; traffic was com p letely tied up; guards w ere stricken blind; silken frocks could be heard above the din of bands and kitchen crews. The petted Dixie darlings sw arm ed to the tented city to bring food, felicitations and m illion-dollar sm iles to the favored few. Truly, for every buck private who was lonely there apparently was a lassie lonely, too. In my corner of the tent there was weep ing and w ailing and gnashing of teeth. E v ery tim e I m ussed around the lobby of S p a rtanburg’s m o st fashionable hostelry fem inine fantasies of every description greeted my eyes. Some of the rarest class who affixed the beloved letters, “N . Y .,” to th e ir nam es on the register, sauntered to and fro across the m u d-besm irched tile floor. O thers who brag they w e re never north of the M ason and Dixon line, added gobs of color to the bew itching picture. W h a t a joy to hold down the plush furni ture, ostensibly to devour the contents of the dailies, w h en the fairest of th e fair parade before you. Day after day I was torm ented. I w a n ted to m e e t one of Carolina’s stunners. I FO U R S T E P S IN PLACE. Par. 72. If marching in double tim e , turn to the right about, taking four steps in place, keeping the cadence, and then step off w ith the left foot. I. D. R. w anted a pretty creature to talk to—some one who would exchange lies w ith me. W ould it pay to advertise in this case? W ould it profit me anything to prim p to the lim it and plant m y self on the public highways w ith a “H e lp” expression upon my already furrow e d visage? T h e se things I asked myself. But I could not concoct a satisfactory reply. My day came, however. A close friend who sym p athized w ith me threw me a line. He was in heavy w ith a bevy of divinities in the village. He thought nothing of eat ing Sunday dinner in one home, taking tea in another and spending the evening in still another. He had entree to the best circles in the county. It was a gala evening w h en I prepared to burst into the Spartanburg social m a e l strom . N ever had I spent more tim e tw ist ing my “w raps,” never had I shaved so closely, never had my hair been m ade so sleek. I was going to m ake the plunge of my career—a mad leap in the Southern social abyss. “Lead on,” I comm anded my chum, as the last notes of R e treat w e re floating over the camp. Into a delightful home he led me. A charm ing m o ther directed us to com fortable chairs in the attractive living room of her home. W ith her perm ission I began the evening by tossing a pail full of coal into the fireplace. I was about to rem o ve my shoes when I was interrupted. T h e re was no blaring of trum p e ts, nor roll of drum s, nor shouting of the m u lti tudes, but th e r e w a s a soft tap, tap, tap upon the stairs a melodious, entrancing sw ish of silk, and suddenly a little w o n d e r stood before us. I tipped over a few chairs, kicked a leg off the piano, jerked a few pictures off th e walls, shattered a row of im p o rted vases* took a hop, skip and jum p , landing upon my neck a t the feet of the p r e ttiest thing th a t had slipped into my vision since I w a s dragged aw ay from Broadway. Fearful th a t I would drop dead before I could tu r n the trick I m ade a date, and then bowed in hum b le obeisance and assured the vam p ire I was tickled silly to know her. A night was chosen for the date and my lady friend em p h asized the fact th a t she would save the date for me alone. I w a s to arrive shortly after dinner, and I did. I found m y self gasping for wind w h en I turned my toes tow a rd her home on the ap pointed evening. “Ha, ha,” I chuckled to myself. “I win to-night. Out of 30,000 soldiers I alone am privileged to call upon this little dream . It’s going to be a w o n d erful evening—like old tim e s— -just we tw o .” I was having a good tim e w ith myself. It was she who opened the door and welcomed me. Visions of two huge chairs draw n together before the snapping, sput tering fire flooded my bew ildered mind. I threw my h a t and coat on the floor, patted down my hair, glanced from th e cor ners of m y eyes into the hall m irror to make certain I w as intact, rubbed m y hands and smiled. ‘Just we tw o ,” I m u ttered. (Continued on page 25)
